SOMETHING ABOUT A PIE: This week I bought the ‘Hairy Biker’s’ book on pies from a charity shop. It was almost pristine, and full of innovative pie recipes. I like to take a recipe book up to bed, but it makes me feel hungry. I have to get up and make some toast. There is something about the crimped circumference of a pie that invites hospitality, probably its continuity. Its reputation and it’s shape, is as unwavering as the moon or the clock in the hall. A circle is so friendly. As long as the ingredients are compatible, we can put almost anything in a pie can’t we, and of course apple pie is always a deal maker. Covering a pie with a layer of shortcrust is like wrapping it in a rug and bedding it down for the night. No wonder it’s so satisfying and soporific, it starts off cosy before it even gets to the oven. A pie is an expression of forethought and regard. Sitting around an apple pie reminds me of the Walton’s. Do you remember the Waltons on TV? We still call out ‘Goodnight John Boy’, ‘ Goodnight Mary Ellen’ occasionally as a joke. It’s become a cliché. I like it when on occasions the family stay, and we call out goodnight from different rooms. Just that one word says “Love ya lots, but this is my lone-time, I’m closing the door on the day!”

Friday, 25th January 2019, 6:00 am
Updated Thursday, 7th February 2019, 6:47 pm
Iden news

A SERVICE OF HOLY COMMUNION: There is a service of Holy Communion in Iden Parish Church at 9.30am

PLEASE DONATE YOUR JUMBLE: Iden Bowls Club are holding a Jumble Sale in Iden Village Hall, on Saturday 2nd February, at 12 midday. Donations of bric-a -brac, clothing, books ,toys and sundries will be most welcome, anything except electrical goods. Please ring Vickie Britton [telephone 01797 280568], and she will either collect, or arrange for you to drop off jumble. It’s a great opportunity to make room for Christmas presents!

TONIGHT, IN IDEN VILLAGE HALL: There is a meeting of the Iden and District Natural History Society tonight in Iden Village Hall. The lecture is entitled’ ‘Mallydams, the last 20 years’, which will tell us all about Mallydams Wood in Fairlight. Everyone is welcome. Visitors pay £3 for an informative evening.

BOWLS CLUB BINGO IS BACK: After a winter break, Bingo is to start again on Friday 22nd February in Iden Bowls Club [6.30pm for 7pm] Anyone can come, all are welcome for a fun evening.

FUN FOR THE TOTS: There is a regular Wednesday morning session of play and fun for pre-school children and their mothers and carers, in the ‘Old Hall by the church [10.30am-12 midday.] All are welcome.

THE PUB QUIZ: The next pub Quiz at ‘the Bell’, in Iden is on Wednesday 20th February, [7pm, for 7.30] The quiz, on the third Wednesday of each month, and all are welcome.

ANOTHER BANK CLOSING- OH MY GOODNESS: I’m not yet friendly enough with my computer to do on-line banking, though I dare say the time will have to come. My grandchildren think it’s great. A bank to them is superfluous, old-fashioned, a thing of the past like the bank robbery scenes in ‘Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. ’Barclays in Rye is to close. We are gradually being forced to bank on line. Those travelling bank vans in car parks are so archaic, they remind me of a temporary toilet. They hold only a couple of people at a time, and the rest have to wait in the rain to do their transactions. I miss the warmth of a bank, sitting down for a moment reading the pamphlets. For years I’ve missed the person they called the bank manager, who was replaced by transient folk we didn’t know, a young woman in red high heels once greeted me, and I so missed the big old shiny-shoed bank manager who not only knew me, but was acquainted with my account, and didn’t laugh at my skimpy fortunes. Oh well, onwards and upwards, we are not the only generation who have had to adjust to progress, but a bank teller is just another human being we are no longer speaking to!

BEING MRS MAY: Whether or not we like Teresa May, I don’t know how she puts up with all the flack over Brexit. Imagine having people inside and outside parliament yelling at you all day every day. I get upset if someone in the supermarket queue tuts at me for running back for a can of beans. It’s not as though she can relax with some knitting and a quarter of humbugs either. Whatever the outcome I feel sorry for her. I wonder if she says, “pass the Brexit”, instead of the marmalade, or “ have you fed the Brexit” instead of the cat. Brexit is such a clipped, staccato kind of word. The ‘x’ in the middle gives it a grating sound like a worn wheel-bearing. We are all fed up with hearing it, so imagine if you had that word for breakfast dinner and tea. Teresa May is in effect Brexit’s mother. She can’t just have it minded while she nips to the shops, hire a nanny for it or pass it over to be burped, she is responsible, like the mother of all small children for making its decisions. If it was me, I’d hide out at Chequers with a packet of Paracetamol and some calamine lotion [according to the news, some drugs could soon be in short supply!] I suppose being the Prime Minister is like any other job a person aspires to, being at the top and reaching that pinnacle is all downhill from then on, and when the bubble bursts it must be hard to shrink back like a popped balloon. Better to be Joe Ordinary, [have a humbug!]

CONTACT ME: If anyone has anything to add to the Village Voice, please ring Gill Griffin [telephone 01797 280311]