Saturday, August 3, 2013
A misty morning may have a fine day.
The day of the village pottery fair. The reproduction sixteenth century kiln all ready to be fired up. This year someone has sensibly removed the roof tiles that cover the chimney.
It's barely seven but the very old farmer is sitting by the village pond ,a bottle of home made wine on a fold up table in front of him. He's wearing a blue smock and a black beret tilted at a jaunty angle. '' Keeping an eye on things " he announces as I wander by. He repeats himself, tickles Sophie and offers me a plastic tumbler full of wine.
On our way back home we see that the local council has dropped off twenty or so crowd control barriers in the car park by the war memorial. Crowd control barriers are an unusual sight in our little village of 67 souls. The word incongruous springs to mind.
Another hot morning. Bob and Sophie settle down in the shade of the courtyard. For them there's a busy day ahead. Seventeen potters and ceramicists to be barked at. Who knows ? There may be vast crowds to control.