Oh, what weather we’re having here in Lush Places.
Rain, rain and more rain. And when it’s not raining, it’s grey skies.
Dull, dull, dull.
It can be foggy here at the best of times. When other places nearby are bathed in sunshine we sit under the misty radar.
There’s a kind of microclimate at work, but not in a good way.
No-one tells you that before you move here, you find out only after it’s too late.
Currently, the village is in a grey state of doom, as are many places in the country ever since the new year began.
There are parts of South Wales and South West England where it’s rained every day since the door opened to let in 2026.
This weather saps the soul and, coupled with the worldwide fall of humanity on the depravity scale, it’s enough to make you want to curl up and come out in May, along with the bluebells and tulips.
My headphones are drowning out my sorrows and tinnitus, with wall-to-wall Stevie Wonder, an old friend’s Sunshine Pop playlist on Spotify and out-of-this-world ethereal music by We Are All Astronauts.
Still, if it wasn’t for the weather, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
There were blue skies on Wednesday and the snowdrops in my sister’s garden were chattering away like nobody’s business. Small joys to cheer up a dreary time.
After a grey, grim old day yesterday, we have blue skies and signs of spring here in West Dorset.
There’s mud everywhere and it’s squelchy underfoot but the many puddles are reflecting the changing of the seasons.
We’re not there yet but it won’t be long.
On my morning walk, I glanced up when I heard the corvid call of rooks building nests in the tall trees in the copse.
And then a deer scuttled through the undergrowth.
‘The longer days are coming,’ said my farmer friend as he came down the hill from the community shop with his newspaper under his arm.
“But I fancy the daffodils are a bit early.”
I met a man in the lane who I thanked for his expertise in the community pub the other night when our very own Celebrity Farmer and his sidekick regaled the gathered throng with tales from their escapades on the Channel 4 show, Hunted.
(They should have done Bake Off.)
The man in the lane had provided his sound and vision expertise for the talk, which was just as well because the place was packed and none of us would have been able to hear it otherwise.
He told me he’s going to be at the village hall next weekend to help when I put on an archive film show as part of a project recording the memories of older people born and bred here in Lush Places.
It’s people like him who quietly get on with helping others who are the unsung heroes among us.
The international stage is a frightening place and there are personal situations all around where people are suffering.
But to be dragged down by all of that means the extinguishing of hope. We have to celebrate the small big things that make a difference.
I thought about all the volunteers in our pub who are keeping it going while we interview for a new manager. I thought about the volunteers in the shop who man the till.
The people who run the village hall, the people who keep our lovely church up and running, the people who lock and unlock the gate everyday on the multi-use games pitch, the people who listen to children reading at school and those who give up their time to look after our communal open spaces.
So many people, in small and big ways, doing their bit and keeping the community from coming unstuck.
To steal a well-known slogan, every little helps. And it really does.
While out dogwalking in Lush Places this morning, I encountered a train of primary school children walking in crocodile formation to the church.
Some had silver tinsel halos and others wore bunny ears.
It’s the time for school Nativity plays across the land.
Shortly after they were shepherded into the church, the heavens opened and rain lashed down in full Storm Bram mode, with gusts of wind careering through like the breath of Satan.
I do hope they got back to their classrooms safe and dry.
The weather is to be expected this time of year. But it’s a bit of a rude awakening for us, to be honest, after spending almost three weeks in South East Asia on a tour of Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand.
It’s a trip we promised ourselves for ‘significant’ birthdays, but the pandemic lockdowns got in the way.
It’s been a terrific experience, with beautiful food and landscapes and such poignant tales of suffering which are indescribably sad.
The highlight for me was the gentle kindness of the Vietnamese and Cambodian people. Thank you for your warm hospitality.
I’ve been posting reels on my margerymaddie Instagram account, but below are a few pictures from our trip to give you a flavour.
Now it’s back to normality – we have to put the Christmas tree up again outside the house because it’s blown down in the storm.
And while we’re at it, we’ll change the lights to warm white rather than flashing, coloured lights, because we’ve spoilt the look of the village square and there have been complaints.
Which is fair enough. But just wait until we get our blow-up Santa…
Featuring lots of old photos and interviews with locals, the 120-page book was produced by me for Windrose Rural Media Trust, for which I act as voluntary co-ordinator.
It’s available from the community pub and community shop, and also directly from me. I have to send a copy to the British Library, now that the international standard book number (ISBN) has been registered, so, in theory, people should be able to order it from book shops.
It’s been a long gestation and a difficult birth – my designer was beset with software problems and then a car crashed into a tree, causing him and thousands of others in the area to lose their internet for several days.
But it’s here, and the feedback has been lovely. It’s been a privilege to hear local people’s stories of their childhood and how the village used to be.
All sale proceeds go to the pub, the shop and to Windrose, a registered charity.
The project is supported by grants from Dorset Council’s Community and Culture Fund, the South West Procurement Alliance/LHC Community Benefit Fund, Magna Housing Association’s Community Improvement Fund, and the British Association for Local History’s Small Grants Programme.
Back in 2011, Lush Places was landed with the unwelcome addition of a mass of bright white street lights.
They appeared all around the village square and marched like War of the World aliens along the road to the primary school, and all without any public consultation.
Subsequent protests to the county council fell on deaf ears.
Our erstwhile leaders insisted the lights were necessary to illuminate new traffic calming measures, on which the village had been consulted although the new lights were never once mentioned, nor did they appear on the plans shown to residents.
We were all set to join forces, stop the traffic and have a game of football under the new floodlights, just to prove the point that they were brighter than anything the village had ever seen. And the hideous poles were more in keeping with an edge-of-town industrial estate than a pretty rural village where King Charles II once holed up for the night back in 1651 when he was on the run.
Despite numerous meetings, letters and the support of our local MP, we were given the brush off.
We put in blackout curtains to help us sleep at night and a shield was installed on the lamp outside my neighbour’s house to try to stop the glare piercing through their window.
Disquiet built up. I made a formal complaint to the council about how the lights had just appeared without anyone knowing it was going to happen.
The complaint was partially upheld, particularly the bit about lack of consultation. At the time, the council pledged to learn from its mistake and make sure the public was consulted on lighting schemes in the future.
But, anyway, it would not be unreasonable to assume that local residents likely to be affected by new street lights would at least be notified before installation, either by the council or the contractor.
It seems not.
These have recently appeared up the road.
It’s difficult to photograph accurately, but the three lights really are that bright, shining into windows at night like static searchlights.
The good thing is that the new lanterns are energy saving, and they were fixed to existing poles, although in some places in Dorset, streetlights are turned off at night to reduce costs.
The official line is that the lanterns do ‘appear different as they are now a white light which is remarked upon by some’.
Remarked upon? Screamed about, more like.
But there is no mention of public consultation. However, there are ways of making people talk…
Maddie Grigg 