COATS, CAROLS & CAKE

At the village fair, one of the first people I bumped into was Dawn. In her mid-eighties, she is brimming over with energy and joie de vivre. Last week, I invited her round for a cup of coffee and as we sat in my living room, I pointed out my extraordinary floral display which dominates the window. She thought it was pretty fantastic, and very realistic looking for fake flowers. Her roars of laughter on finding out they were real could be heard all down the glen.

So I thought Dawn would like to hear about my mink coat purchase. She was amazed and delighted, if  somewhat taken aback at such whimsical behaviour, and we began discussing wearing our minks on Christmas Day as she has a fine example tucked in her wardrobe which she'd like an excuse to brush off. She then spied some friends and insisted I join them for a cup of tea, and tell them all about my mink coat purchase, which I really think she was more excited about than I was.

Amongst much hilarity concerning its usefulness in Australia and how I could sell it for a huge profit on ebay, I think I have may have started a mink coat revival. Jackie said although she loved fur coats she didn't really approve of them but her mother reminded her that minks are terrible pests and apparently do a lot of damage. I have promised to wear my coat to the Rural Women's Institute meeting this week - I think that means I will be better wrapped up than the present I must bring for the Best Wrapped Secret Santa Gift competition.

We chatted about the various carol services that are planned. The main one takes place in a neighbouring village the weekend before Christmas and will serve mince pies and Christmas pudding (the catering arrangements seemed to be more important than the Order of Service). The village shop is having carols and a barbecue, which sounds to me suspiciously as if we will be expected to congregate outside, rather than inside, the store. I kept quiet about Gordon's plans for my debut guitar accompaniment. I have been too busy to practice my chords so I expect I'll be kicked off the orchestra anyway. I tried to delve further into the mystery of whether or not the local church will have a service on Christmas Day. As far as I could gather even if there is a service, no one will bother to attend because the current fire and brimstone vicar will make it very dreary. As Lavender said, you only want to go on Christmas Day if the church is full, it's fun and there are lots of children running around.

The fair was well attended. Just about everyone I have met in the village was there, either buying or selling. My purchases comprised:

1. Two beeswax candles from Aussie Jenny, who is married to the beekeeper
2. One bar of handmade tea tree, peppermint and patchouli soap from the lady who runs the local pottery
3. A black and white line drawing of my cottage by Paul's wife, Teresa
4. A thingummigig to hang in the garden to attract birds. It came with an apple skewered across the middle which I took out on the basis that the quarantine inspectors might have apoplexy:



5. A cup of tea and my first mince pie of the season, made by Jean. Delicious. The ladies running the tea and cake stall were so busy we did our own washing up.

When I got home I realised I had not bought anything for the Secret Santa Gift, but then it wouldn't be much of a secret, I suppose, to buy it from the village fair; and a bit embarrassing if whoever got my present had actually made the item inside. A high probability!