Lush Places Just Loves a Good Barn Dance

In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .

ARTY and I have been confined to the spare bedroom this fine evening, as Mr Grigg hosts a meeting of the community shop committee downstairs.

Mr Putter, the chairman, is sitting at the head of the table, and among the assembled throng is Mr Costner, the new manager.

I heard them slam the dining-room door earlier as I walked into the house with a hot dog from the back yard, following an unsuccessful walk in the fields. I was unable to let the poor girl off her lead because everywhere was full of sheep.

So Arty’s all hot and bothered and will probably need to go out again later to do her business.

Meanwhile, she’s sitting bolt upright, looking out of the bedroom window as an articulated lorry attempts to turn right in the village square, while people queuing for the fish and chip van are looking on in astonishment.

There are impatient honks of car horns, which we seldom hear in Lush Places, then the lorry gets through and it all goes quiet again.