A meeting to organise the Village Festival today. It’s almost as thrilling here as in JonnyB’s village, except that we’re not quite so excited about chickens; having Chicken Roundabout only a mile away makes us blasĂ© and sophisticated.
Anyway, the posters will be marvellous. We all liked them. There is a fine portrait of a beer glass full of amber home brew (no, I’m not taking the piss (d’you see what I did there?), the village publican has a micro-brewery in his garage) with a jolly flower on a long stem poking out of the top. It really does set the scene for our village fĂȘte. It’ll be interesting to see if the primary school puts a poster up and, if they do, if anyone complains.
There is to be a hanging basket and flower tub competition, a treasure hunt and a display in the church on the subject of ‘childhood memories’. I have asked the Sage to write about the war. No, really, he may only have been a little boy, but he remembers a bomb landing, bouncing him off his tricycle and saying to his mother “I hope Hitler doesn’t do that again!” He also remembers the American airman having bountiful supplies of Smith’s Crisps (with the little blue twist of salt in every pack) and similar goodies, unobtainable by the Brits. He also has a model aeroplane, carved by airmen on their way home from a raid; it is a prized possession. As are the (empty) butterfly bombs collected by his father.
Before the meeting, I said ‘hello’ to the children. I confirmed that Squiffany could come and spend the afternoon with me, while Pugsley and his mother went to a singalong in the library (no signs saying ‘Silence’ nowadays). When I left, Pugsley cried. “Granny, Granny,” he wailed. I was intensely gratified. “Want bed” he added. “What, are you tired?” I asked … “Ah. You want to bounce on my bed. Okay.”
Mind you, that afternoon he thanked me for reading to him and giving him biscuits, and gave me a kiss. Grandchildren are awfully good for one’s wellbeing.
“Grandchildren ARE awfully good for one’s wellbeing”. I totally agree with you.
The Village Festival being planned sounds like a lot of fun.
We have had one of the few roundabouts roundabout for about a year and are already feeling blase’ and sophisticated.
Have the chickens moved in yet? Ours are world famous and protected by law. Well, sort of.
Ahhh- he sounds a cutie!
The center of our roundabout has been given a western theme. We kept waiting for them to finish the landscaping until we found out they had finished. Chickens would be a welcome sight.
I didn’t participate in the planning, so I’m not complaining, just saying.
I just read JonnyB and have to say Z that it isn’t a good idea for him to have his eggs stamped on by lions. It would create a huge mess I should think.
z, love. i adore the imagery in this.
jen, dear, I adore the idea of calling z “love”.
Hang on a minute. Smiths crisps are English, aren’t they? How come American airmen could have them, and the British not? Is it too late to take umbrage at this?
Are the chickens still at Chicken Roundabout then? Fantastic! It must be an East Anglia thing, as Wisbech has the Rabbit Roundabout (complete with three river cruiser boats)….
They’re still there, Eddie. In the event of bird flu, they are officially classed as wild birds and therefore protected from culling.
Dandelion, I think you missed your chance by 60 years and more. Jen usually calls everyone ‘dude’ – I would too, but I can’t get away with it.
Jen, we’re the sort of village where the fete has a beer festival attached. The partying goes on until the small hours.
LZM, it’s the way we make omelettes in this country. The lion stamp on eggs is the mark of Britishness. Western theme. Complete with rattlesnakes?
Girl, I’m biased, but … he’s adorable
Are you certain the butterfly bombs are defunct?
Home now. Will now gradually work back through your blog.