THE HONKEYMOON CAFE

Industry is not something always associated with the rolling hills of the Dorset countryside,  but when research for the village museum turns up something of national importance,  it could make the village famous. Rachael, who as you know is our local historian, has been researching the village’s industrial past for an exhibit in the village museum. It may seem odd as such a thing hardly exists other than the occasional tech firm re-locating for the ‘mindfulness’ of their employees, and why not. No one would discount the village blacksmith as a manufacturer, he, or she, in their time have produced far more than horse-shoes and garden gates. Chairs and tables were often produced locally and the legs as well as staircase spindles and other turned parts were produced sometimes on a ‘pole lathe’ by the fine skills of a ‘bodger’. Not at all the careless, half hearted, temporary work with which the name is now associated. The farming landscape has changed over the years so that smal...

A celebrity stays in the village but only so long as she can go for walks without  be hounded by the press.  She likes the one but not the other. It's a deal you can get caught up in. On my way to the shop late one morning a neighbour told me there was a limousine in the street. I presumed she meant ‘Limousin’ as a local farm had a herd, and it was more likely than a stretched taxi, but I was wrong. Awards ceremonies and opening nights would have limos queueing up to discharge their celebrities onto the waiting red carpet, but nowadays it would be more likely to be a hen party bent on clubbing. The limo had become commonplace, but not during the day, and certainly not in our village and certainly not parked outside our village shop. As I walked past this stretched monstrosity, I heard a gentle hiss and the one of several darkened windows slowly lowered revealing, from what I could see beneath large dark glasses, a tanned woman’s face and therefore probably not a local. ‘Hi, ca...

A stage magician and clairvoyant begins to wish it were possible to be at one’s own funeral,  to hear the kind words, and find out what people really thing.  Surely with his skills anything is possible. It’s a shame that funerals happen when they do, when those for whom the funeral is held is not there to appreciate those that have made the effort to turn up, or all the kind words that are spoken. There is deep sorrow of course, but also sadness amongst some that it takes a funeral for them to make contact, renew old acquaintances, meet the relatives they haven’t seen since a wedding, or a previous funeral. As opposed to the subdued and melancholy post committal events of the past, a wake has become a more relaxed affair with entertaining remembrances of the deceased. It can give a truer picture of the dearly departed and a genuine celebration of that person’s life. Rose, who used to be the village post lady, died three years ago. Her grandson was a regular drinker at the Dru...

A mirror frame rotting in The Old Drum and Monkey’s cellar has been there for a century or more.  It’s history as a mirror reveals it’s witnessed some horrific acts.  Can mirrors really show us what horrors they remember? Dave at our local asked me during a busy Sunday lunchtime whether I knew anything about ‘gilding’. A frame had been in his cellar ever since he had been given the pub to run by the Blythe Estate. Diane, Lady Blythe’s secretary had told Dave that if it was the same frame, it was the frame of a mirror purchased from the Connaught Estate by Lady Blythe’s father-in-law. No sooner had it been installed in his Lordship’s dressing room, it was removed but she didn’t know why. When his lordship found out it had been stored in an outbuilding, he instructed a couple of gardeners to destroy it and to put anything that remained onto one of their regular bonfires. Obviously that hadn’t happened. A few days later I was examining the mirror frame which was in a very poor st...

Does a collector’s cabinet, which has no key, have anything valuable inside?  Does it have anything at all?  Would you destroy it to find out, or happily just dream about what it could be?  Imagining what might be inside could tell you more about the you than the cabinet. A collector’s cabinet came my way some years ago and it was cheap due to the owner having lost the key. It was late Georgian, eight drawers, mahogany, banding in various woods and a trophy inlay on the top comprising various classical elements. The seller had been left the cabinet by a close relative who had died without giving any clue as to the contents. The relative had enquired about the key but none of those who knew the deceased could help, they had never seen the drawers open, and so had no idea what was inside, if anything. On him had fallen the dilemma as to whether he should destroy the cabinet to find what was inside or sell it undamaged and imagine that it contained nothing of particular valu...

Our bellringers have at last acquired a fifth bell, but not everyone is happy about it.  Some think there is a problem, as the sound fades away there’s another sound that accompanies it,  one that sounds like a scream.  Our village church, like many others, is not as popular as it once was nevertheless the bellringers keep their hands in. Tuesday is when they practice before retiring to the Drum for yet more arm lifting. Campanology is a mystery to me though names like ‘triple bob major’ and ‘grandsire doubles’ should be found a place in the English language where they can be used more often.  It was an early Tuesday evening when I called in to see Dave the landlord regarding an equestrian print, when I noticed the bellringers settled around the table in the window. I could see there was an air of discomfort amongst what is usually a very jovial group. It was after Martin Jeffors described the group of bellringers one Sunday as a ‘band’, that I suggested it might be ...

When a villager who is known as a hoarder, suddenly disappears it sparks all sorts of rumour.  When his house is put up for sale and all the contents are to be cleared surely he must be dead.  When something is found in a piece of furniture the mystery is solved and a love story is revealed. If you are familiar with the novels of Thomas Hardy, you may remember in ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’ the problems that arose when Bathsheba Everdene sends a Valentine’s card to William Boldwood as a jest, with the comment ‘Marry me’. It’s a juvenile prank but Boldwood, a mature single man of a certain age takes it seriously and becomes obsessed with Everdene after he is able to identify her as the valentine’s sender. Without a good measure of believability fictional stories can remain distant and the reader disconnected and eventually disinterested. We know the story to be ‘fantasy’, but most of us are prepared to ‘suspend our disbelief’ for the sake of entertainment. There will always be...