Maddie’s World
In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .
HAPPY 150th birthday to “The People’s Friend”. What a grand old lady, and a very special one, too. When the lovely folk at the magazine were looking for a new columnist nearly four years ago and “found” me through my online blog, I had to reread the editor’s e-mail to me at least three times.
She said such complimentary things about my writing, but best of all, she wanted me to pen a column for the magazine every week.
If I could still have done cartwheels at my age, I would have.
I remember a young colleague asking why I had such a big smile on my face.
“I’ve been head-hunted,” I said, showing him the e-mail.
“Head-hunted? Does that mean you’ve got another job?”
He looked a little worried because, despite the age difference, he and I were allies in an unsettled period when the business was about to be taken over by a new owner.
At the time, I was helping to promote a lovely old theatre in the heart of Bridport, Dorset.
“Of course not,” I said. “But it’ll keep me out of mischief for a while.”
Sadly, at the age of twenty-five and into “indie” music, he hadn’t heard of “The People’s Friend”.
“You know,” I said. “It’s a story magazine. It’s the one with a red masthead and a colour illustration on the cover. It’s the longestrunning women’s weekly magazine in the world.”
“Nope,” he said. “You’ve got me there.”
So I took in a copy of the magazine the next day. He recognised it immediately.
“My nan has this,” he said, leafing through the pages. “And you’re going to write for it?”
He smiled a big smile. “Cool,” he said, before reaching the magazine’s cookery section.
“Can I have this after you’re finished?” he said, pointing to a recipe for a one-pot supper.
“I’ll let you have a copy of it. But maybe I or Mr Grigg can make it and you and your girlfriend can come over one evening.”
“It’s a deal,” he said, then suddenly became very busy sifting through paperwork as the new owner walked in.
I never did get to make him the supper because, not long afterwards, he was “let go”. Poor lad; I liked him a lot.
I hear he’s now up in London doing great things with his band. And good luck to him, too. Music was always his first love.
Writing for “The People’s Friend” is a dream job. It’s wonderful to be able to share my tales of Dorset and beyond with such an appreciative audience.
“What will ‘Friend’ readers think of this?” is often the first thing that goes through my head when something happens here in Lush Places, especially if it involves Mr Grigg, Arty or my dear neighbours.
I’ve had some lovely e-mails and letters from readers over the years, including a wonderful card of condolence when my sister, father and nephew died within the space of three months back in 2016.
I’ve still got that card and it’s pinned up on my board above my desk, reminding me that there are kind people out there in a world that can often be quite overwhelming.
I still keep in contact with Mrs Simpson, an avid “Friend” reader who called into the village when she and her husband were visiting Dorset.
Her own antics – misfortunes or otherwise – which she relates so wittily and warmly in her e-mails, often resemble my own.
But she’s always cheerful, and that’s what I like: to be able, in the words of Rudyard Kipling, to keep your head when, all about you, others are losing theirs.
Since starting this column, the friendship and kindness I’ve experienced – and this includes the lovely staff at the “Friend” – has been priceless.
Happy birthday to “The People’s Friend”. Here’s to many more years to come. ■