Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Quite a surprise to know that it is official. In this village if something is written in any foreign European language – take it to Elise (which is what I’m called here). No, it doesn’t matter WHICH language, just go and look helpless on her doorstep, she’ll sort it out.

Unusually, this morning, I had a lot of energy so I rushed around catching up on little jobs, so by afternoon when Badger toddled off on one of his mysterious “making and mending things” trips, I settled down for a wee nap. No chance! My ex-neighbour banged on the door until I ran out, still buttoning up my jeans and thrust a packet under my nose having given me two rather perfunctory kisses.

“It’s in English. I got it at Noz and I can’t read it.”

That spoke volumes. Noz is a mega-cheap shop which buys-up bankrupt stock of all kinds…