Village Life

Is a little different to city life.

A farmer gets up at four thirty in the morning to start their day. Most things in their life are apportioned to cost and time from feeding animals to treats for the kids. The local shop is small and opens at eight and the post office opens too though officially it opens at nine. In times of shortage regular customers have goods put back for them and the owner knows everyone by name;  if the serving ladies pass your house on their way home they can deliver, which they do anyway for the elderly.

The main road through this village is busy and five times in the last sixteen years my wall has been damaged by large lorries on the wrong road who suddenly see they cannot get through. Once by a Ministry of Defence army truck. Several two seater planes fly over in the summer and a few hot air balloons some of which end up landing in the fields I walk around. They are very colourful beasts but I imagine it is quite boring floating around all day even if it is your birthday.

When the river flooded several men were out helping break a dam to help out the houses flooded. They just appeared in that country way people do when needed without the use of mobile phones. Now they have an amateur dramatic society and the children love it.

Affairs? Divorces? Betrayal? Feminism? Chauvenism? Death? Yes. As Agatha Christie once noted, all of life is in a village. Don’t be taken in!

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