‘Did you want to get out, then?’ the publican asks innocently. Knock at next door and awaken sleepy neighbours to ask if their car can be moved so that beer tent can go in its rightful place, 10 metres further down. Mission accomplished. No more awning though for the Queen, though I think she’s meant to be at the River Thames anyway.
Meanwhile, Tiger cow (my favourite: see The Cows are Out blog) has strolled down to the pub and is surveying not only garden gate left open there but pub door too. He is contemplating an early morning swift half but husband heads him off in time.
Yesterday we had tea with one of the stalwart band of volunteers who are making Coronation Chicken for the Jubilee lunch. 300 tickets sold, and everyone who was too late must bring picnic instead. Onto the sopping wet village green. Ah, if they hadn’t messed with the Bank Holidays it would have been last weekend and the weather would have been fabulous. The chicken breasts were distributed and each person given batch of sauce, told to roast chicken and whack on the sauce, spooning in more curry powder if needs be. Hmm. I’ll let you know later. And there’s the trifle to come, too.