THE HONKEYMOON CAFE

Villages often create their own entertainment. Societies and clubs abound but under the innocent facade of say, a bridge club, turbulent waters stir and it doesn’t take much for a storm to brew. Sometimes it turns out to be just a passing squall, on other occasions, a tempest in which everything perishes. Village clubs and associations come and go. There are many reasons why they are started, but a dearth of members is usually why they expire. How that comes about can be quite revealing.  Milton Peacock, who found the ‘three pound coin’, was the founder member of the village sailing club. Bearing in mind that the sea is some distance away and neither Milton, nor any of the other members had a boat; or was in the habit of sailing. It lasted for nearly a year and was disbanded after Milton’s wife, Shirley, had followed them to Poole and confronted them in a nightclub on the quay. She had suspected for some time that it was just a ruse to legitimise a fortnightly exploration of coasta...

An iron age fort, an antique, or the cottage we live in, there is a fascination for the past. It’s a connection, a continuity, and a firm spot. Like generations before us, it speaks to us of other times and of the part we play in our time, and that we will not be the last. The life of an antiques dealer is spent by its nature in the company of things that are generally over a hundred years old, that being the standard definition of an antique. Why one becomes a dealer in such old things has been the subject of countless conversations and the conclusions are as individual as are the dealers themselves. It may come as a surprise the amount of affection a dealer has for those things when he or she will inevitably sell them on. It’s been compared to the care and affection that farmers give their livestock, when they know it is them that will eventually take them to the market, or to the abattoir.  Imagine wanting to collect something you are passionate about, its appearance, the fine s...

A muse takes all forms, and none. What gives any creative person the desire to practice their art and explore their talent to the full is illusive, but without it, little can be achieved. Is it something we strive for in the future, or something from which we are trying to escape from the past, a muse can push us or pull us. As I walked back from Finches, the home of the artist Rowland Cartwright, I had to solve a problem. Rowland had been paid in advance for a commission by a friend of what he called his ‘bonkers’ sister. After three months and no smell of a painting, the friend was wanting his money back. Fuelled with whiskey, I had arranged with two dealers to advance Rowland cash against two antiques. Rowland had said he couldn’t sell the antiques having been his ‘dad’s’, but I had persuaded him he could put them up as surety in the knowledge that within three months with the sale of the painting he’d repay the advance with ease. It meant that he could get his ‘bonkers’ sister and ...

An artist, not known for his reliability, takes on a commission and is paid in advance.  After three months there’s no painting, the money’s been spent, and the wolves are circulating.  What can a poor artist do? Dave from the Drum asked me one morning as he was walking Roman his German Shepherd, if I knew any picture framers. He’d been asked by Rowland Cartwright who lived at Finches, a converted barn to the south of the village. I said I’d give it some thought but Rowland had a reputation, and not a good one, so I wasn’t keen to get involved.  You may not have heard of the artist Rowland Cartwright. I hadn’t as an artist, only as someone who Dave had to ask to quieten down on more than a few occasions and once threatened to ban from the pub. It seems he would arrive with some friends, create a disturbance, and not then be seen again for a month or two. The friends were often women, and Dave suspects were of a dubious sort, he might know being an ex-London cabby. Having ...

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...