YOU BELONG TO ME EVERYBODY TELLS ME SO!: There is a tree outside my window which I find myself constantly taking a peek at as I write the Village Voice. It's calm today, it's branches giving off only a slight sway, but yesterday it was the mother of discontent, leaves whipping in the wind as though something terrible had happened. It seemed so disturbed that I felt like saying 'Calm down dear, take a break, take a load off, have a cup of tea, I think I've got a gingernut somewhere, try breathing out in and out of this paper bag.' Sometimes my tree is in full leafage, and other times it's as naked as a Jaybird, but whatever it's state of undress, I type a few lines and find myself staring at it for inspiration. Actually, it isn't even my tree, it's one of those things I wish I owned, but that's the wonderful thing about nature, it doesn't matter who provides the trowel or buys the plant, or who's garden a tree might be in, beauty is a shared experience. We can all observe a tree being as calm as can be or being blown by excessive winds, like an irate, fuming, '˜Disgusted from Tunbridge wells.' That's the great thing about gardening, everyone in the whole wide world inadvertently shares their flowering cherries.
VOLUNTEERS WANTED FOR THE IDEN FETE: Iden fete is renowned. It’s everything a fete should be, and more. However, everything comes at a cost, and people who have been beavering away at Iden fete for years could really do with some practical help. The fete is on Saturday 28th July, and if you can help set-up take-down, run a stall or help collect bric-a-brac, raffle prizes etc, please ring the fete secretary Victoria [telephone 01797280397]
PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE LEAFLETS: A leaflet will be dropped through our doors on 2nd July, explaining Iden fete-collections, which will occur on the week commencing 9th July, giving us time to sort out raffle prizes, books, bric-a-brac etc, and to get our purses out for Grand Draw tickets.
BINGO AT THE BOWLS: Bingo at Iden Bowls Club has proved to be something fun and entertaining for warm summer evenings. The next one for the diary is Friday 13th July, in the Bowls Club, 6.30pm for 7pm.
BOWLS CLUB COMPETITION: Iden Bowls Club held their first internal competition last Saturday, ‘The Ted White Cup and Plate’. It was a lovely day, and as usual the buffet was as good as the weather. Kit Young won the Ted White Cup [runner-up was Eddie Potter], and ‘The Plate’ was won by Vicki Britton [runner-up was Sonny Moore]. A bowls match does epitomise summer, and Iden is fortunate to have such a picturesque setting for the game.
A SERVICE OF HOLY COMMUNION: There is a Service of Holy Communion in Iden Parish Church this Sunday at 9.30 am.
IT’S THAT ‘POLDARK’ TIME AGAIN: When it’s finally over quite a few will miss old Ross [he had his shirt off again didn’t he girls?] Even if we are too busy or too hard up to afford a holiday we are transported to Cornwall on Sunday nights, which is actually quite blustery. I like Prudie. Wouldn’t we all like a Prudie [provided we can keep her out of the drinks cabinet]. She cooks, cleans, minds the kids and has recently been giving advice to the lovelorn. I think Elizabeth is dipping into the Laudanum. Mind you, I think if I was married to George Warleggon, I’d be having a dip down too. The doctor’s wife is bound to have a terrible labour. I don’t think I can stand much more!
GET TO BED!: Isn’t it inconvenient that when we are at our most tired, we can’t just climb into bed? We check that the dishwasher is off, the taps on the stove, the washing machine, that the doors are locked, the cat is out, that we’ve taken our pills, watered the African Violets, cleaned our teeth, done our ablutions. Have we got a glass of water? Have we remembered our glasses and a book? Actually, by the time I’ve done all that I’m wide awake, raring to go, wanting to chat or dust the bedside table. I feel I want to analyse the day, to do a little synopsis of what’s occurred. My husband sleeps as soon as his head touches the pillow. He doesn’t share my need for a summary. To me there is something about the darkness that requires a sharing of thoughts, a kind of camp-fire cosiness. All kinds of scientific and spiritual questions suddenly arise.” Are you asleep?”, I say. “A chance would be a fine thing”, my husband says. I often wonder if everyone in Iden is asleep. There must be other insomniacs like me in bed with a can of spray polish. Eight hours does seem an interminable time to just do nothing, but when sleep does come, it’s quite wonderful isn’t it, [unfortunately though it’s the kind of wonderful we aren’t even awake to appreciate!]
CONTACT ME: If anyone has anything to add to the Village Voice, please ring Gill Griffin [telephone 01797 280311]