Thursday, July 27th
There has been a good deal of consternation this week among my fellow villagers as word has leaked from a recent meeting of the Parish Council that we have been asked to house some wandering foreigners in the Village Hall, albeit temporarily (so it is claimed). It also seems that “asked” is a euphemism for “instructed”. The exact length of time we are expected to host the aliens is worryingly unspecified. Not only have these plans been kept out of the national and local press, and residents not consulted, but the village’s Summer schedule of community events is underway, to be followed hot on the heels by the Autumn and Winter events. There is the Scout’s Jumble Sale, the Women’s Institute Bring & Buy Sale, the Under 5s Toy Fair, Reg and Irene Farmer’s daughter’s wedding reception, the Girl Guide’s Jumble Sale, the annual Beauty Pageant, and the Fete, Flower and Vegetable Show with Carnival Floral Parade across the Bank Holiday weekend. And that’s just August! In September the Hall is used by the Under 4s Playgroup every Monday to Friday morning, the Christian Youth Club starts up again after its summer break, every evening from 7 until 9, and the whole of the third week of the month has been bagged for a special event staged by the county’s model railway enthusiasts. I forget what their group is called – perhaps The Suffolk Model Railway Society – but they are paying good money. It’s enough, apparently, to finance refurbishing the Hall toilets. This is not to mention the all-year-round meetings of the Young Mother’s Knitting Society, Scrabble Lunch, Book Group, Watercolour Art for All Afternoons, and the class my wife runs, Oh Yeah! Yoga! Needless to say, the village is somewhat up in arms. Not only can we not have all of our important community events and social life disrupted, but we pride ourselves on there not having been a foreigner as much as visit the village within living memory and probably for even longer than that. There is a meeting tonight in the Hall where battle plans will be drawn up and, probably, a very stiff letter composed that will be sent to whoever dreamed up this dreadful scheme.
One other event of note has come to my attention: Dmytro and Olena Zabolotnyi have put “The Laurels” up for sale.
James Henderson
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