And the clock struck thirteen

Well, the songs continue in The Sound of Music Through The Square Window and, with all this talk of lockdown locking itself in a safe and throwing away the key, there’s going to be a fair few more requests to come.

I’ve had some lovely feedback from locals plus more song requests, as well as a plea from a motorist for people to keep to doorways, windows and the sides of the road. It’s time to face the music and dance, but without touching anyone or slowing down the traffic, although some drivers have stopped and swayed along to the music, as well as clapping for our carers every Thursday night.

The picture outside my window just after one o’clock each day is something to behold. And it seems fitting that, in these times when none of us know what day of the week it is let alone the time, the church clock is striking the hour before the previous one.

So at one o’clock, just as Julie Andrews starts chirruping through the massive speakers like an enormous Tweety, the village clock strikes twelve. I’m rather hoping I’ve miscounted and that the clock is actually striking thirteen, which would be far more appropriate, just before tumbleweed slowly rolls up the street towards the church.

I know the words to The Sound of Music theme tune now by heart. I sing along to it, out of sight in my spare bedroom, arms outstretched. The hills really are alive here in this part of Dorset.

Yesterday was like that classic scene in Ghostbusters II where the slime is defeated by the collective love of the crowd and a kick-ass Statue of Liberty. I almost expected the naked nymph statue in the garden up the road to sashay down to the square, closely followed by Betty and Bob, the pub’s two ornamental gnomes, along with the landlady’s newly-painted plaster wombles and the fairies from Bluebell Hill bringing up the rear.

Now that would have brought traffic to a standstill.

If The Ghostbusters can do it, I’m sure as hell that we can, although it’s going to take more than Hollywood special effects, great comic actors and sparkling script to see this thing off for eternity.

It’s Friday tomorrow (I think) when thoughts turn to what we’re all doing at the weekend. I’m going to be visiting a garden. Mine.

How about you? Planning anything special this weekend?

That’s about it.

Love Maddie x

Author: Maddie Grigg

Maddie Grigg is the pen name of former local newspaper editor Margery Hookings. Expect reflections on rural life, community, landscape, underdogs, heritage and folklore. And fun.

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