The world from my window

Halfway up the hill, the heavens open.  Should I stay or should I go? Should I walk back home or climb up to the summit of Bluebell Hill as planned? It's a field-and-a-bit to the shelter of the wood beyond the time portal gate. It's half-past seven in the morning and Mr Grigg is doing a shift at the community shop. He won't be back until ten o'clock. I stand in the middle of the field in the pouring rain and think to myself, well, I can't get any wetter. The rain has soaked through the shoulders of my coat and is running down the inside of my sleeves. I've got a hole in my left boot, despite having bought them only about six months ago. I don't have much luck with wellies. They don't make them like they used to. I figure I'm going to get as wet going down the hill as if I go up so I plod on through the mud and aim for the gate. Arty shoots on ahead, looking for pheasants to torment, and I trudge on regardless, my woolly hat pulled down over...

The dog and I both have colds. She's listless and lethargic and has a runny nose. It hurts my head when I cough. What a pair we make. I'm fed up with this darned virus. I had it for three weeks before Christmas and then for five days a few weeks ago when I should have been enjoying the Caribbean sunshine. And now I've got it again. I had to Google 'can dogs catch cold?' And yes, they can. I'm reluctant to take her to the vet because I've spent so much money lately on pills and potions for her sore skin and gunky ears that I'm in danger of becoming the Imelda Marcos of animal medication. So I'm following the advice I've found on the internet about treating dogs with colds. And it seems to be working.  I've been keeping her warm and dry and limited the time spent outside during cold weather, which actually suits me fine because I'm doing the same. But we ventured out into the sunshine today, me with my new, red wellies on af...

In the fields, the skeletal trees march along the hedge to tell us winter is here in Dorset. There are children snaking their way up, two by two, to the village hall for their last rehearsal before their Christmas play tomorrow. Cars, vans and lorries have to stop, just for a moment, to let the embodiment of our collective future walk across the road to the steps up to the village green. It's a lovely sight - the children, I mean, not just the halted traffic. In the hall, the festive decorations have already been put up. And around the village, there are spruce trees above front doors, ready for the big switch-on at the weekend when the honours will be done by the vicar to a live soundtrack of Christmas carols before everyone packs into the pub for mulled wine and mince pies. Choir practice is taking place for the church carol concert in a few weeks' time and the shop has had its Christmas shopping event. There's been a supermoon hanging low in the night sky...