The world from my window

‘Shit happens’ it says in a heart drawn in indelible pink ink at the back of the teenage shelter in Lush Places. And then we’re off, off on a train, the Megatrain to London from Yeovil Junction for just £6 each and then fighting for a space, each dragging two suitcases behind us, on a crowded carriage going to Brighton via Gatwick airport. The evening paper has a 72-point headline raging about the prime minister’s broken promise on immigration. There are two olds next to me, both with beer bellies, one with a Union flag lapel badge and the other with a backpack emblazoned with a logo about the British Interplanetary Something. The one with the flying flag says: ‘Well, we knew that would happen, didn’t we? Come into this country for two weeks and then expected to be treated like a local.’ I'm strapped to the mast and not listening. Around me, black, brown and white faces look at no-one. There is a hubbub of voices in different languages. And then the olds get of...

The longer I spend in Lush Places, my enchanted village home in Dorset, the more I realise that there is some kind of magic at work here. Serendipitous things seem to happen all the time and the latest one has unearthed something of a local treasure – A CD featuring fourteen comedy songs by traditional singers and recorded in the village in the mid-1980s. The Wooden Leg’d Parson was rediscovered by folk legend Martin Carthy, who passed it on to record producer Simon Emmerson from The Imagined Village, who lives here in Lush Places. Now, Simon has a box of them to sell, at £10 a time. If you know him, get in touch with him. If you don’t, get in touch with me and I’ll send you one. Doug and Sam Phillips Listening to the laughs in the pub as Doug and Sam Phillips entertained the locals with comedy songs, it feels like you’re right there with them. Those Dorset dialects are magnificent. Some delightful times and tunes with people no longer with us. There’s the lovely, w...

Here in the UK, we're having a bit of bother with our doorbell. It's decided not to come out to play. 'Your doorbell doesn't work,' said our neighbour, Mr Champagne-Charlie. 'We know,' we said. 'You'd better get it fixed,' said Mrs Bancroft. So we fixed it. And then it stopped working again. So we went into B&Q to see if we could get a replacement. For forty pounds, we could have a wireless one that played everything from Vivaldi to the Colonel Bogey March . I quite fancied the idea of the latter blaring out and giving it large when Mr Champagne-Charlie next pressed the doorbell. And then I read some of the reviews  and decided it was probably not worth having a new doorbell at all. There's something to be said for being unavailable. On Sunday night, Mr Grigg sat in the dark splendour of our hallway next to the wood burner, waiting for our neighbours to call for us. 'It's no good ringing the doorbell,' Mr Cha...

It was Greek Dinner night last night, a worldwide event dreamed up by Keri Douglas in Washington DC. All over the world and all through the day and night, people were tweeting about the Greek delights they were preparing and eating. Keri's aim was:  ' to celebrate Greek cuisine and promote amazing people, authors, chefs, businesses who are connected to Greece'. The menus came in all shapes and sizes. Some had a full blow-out in New Zealand, others went for a slimming soup in Athens. In the Grigg household, we asked four friends to bring Greek food to share. There is nothing like 'breaking bread' with people in the form of a meze, although we left out the bread because we're on a diet.     Mr Grigg created zucchini and fish rolls and tzatziki, with the aid of this wonderful book by Lyndey and Blair Milan. We had dolmades, feta cheese and Corfiot cured ham, spicy cheese dip, filo pie, kataifi and Greek yoghurt with honey and walnuts.  A...

It's ten days into the new year and ten days since I've blogged. I'm ashamed of myself, I really am. I hope all is going well for you so far in 2014. Me, I'm abstaining from alcohol this month and still struggling with writing my book about our year in Corfu. Should I be humorous, like Peter Mayle in A Year in Provence , or navel-gazing like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love ? I just have to be truthful, I guess, and tell it like it was. An amazing, incredible experience but tempered by heart wrenching and unexpected homesickness. I have so many notes and photos to put into some kind of order. But bits of our big, fat Greek gap year write themselves, like the wonderful landscape and the warm, generous villagers who became like a second family to us. The climate, the blue skies and the food. Ah, the food. Oh how I love those Sunday lunchtimes of tasty, succulent roast pork in our local taverna. Or stifado next door or the best big beans in the world at the old...

Dark and eerie, like a lost scene from The Wicker Man . This was the Lush Places village square last night. As the bells rang out for the New Year, a huge circle formed to sing and dance Auld Lang Syne. Kissing and hugs followed. But, luckily, hardly any of it came out on this video. There is something wrong with my camera.  But you get the gist. Weird or what? And now it's pouring with rain, there is flooding everywhere and the weather vane is wonky again. That's about it. Love Maddie x

It's New Year's Eve, and this year I'm spending it in Lush Places. Not for me a pomegranate smashed near the door to spread the seeds of good luck on New Year's Day. I don't think they stock them in our village shop. In any case, last year, back in Corfu, it took us ages to get the stain out. Tonight, we'll be hanging out in Lush Places, where the Dorset villagers will be dressed in 70s and 80s for a vinyls night in the local pub and we'll be noshing on a bring-something-to-the-table get-together for thirteen, or, as I'd rather call it, twelve and one for luck. Superstitious? Me? Of course I am. And then we'll all get together for a few drinks in the pub before spilling out into the Square for Old Lang Syne, random kissing and a game of Let's Stop The Traffic . Before that, I need to decide what hat to wear tonight after rashly sending out an email saying our theme should be Get Your Head In Gear For The New Year (as mine most certa...