Maddie’s World
In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .
IT was the last of my weekly quizzes in Lush Places over the internet. There were 16 squares on my computer screen, most of them containing two people, although one of them included a new lurcher puppy called Tom, sitting on his mother’s lap.
We’d had three rounds of questions and the final picture category. I then asked a final, bonus question for which there was no right or wrong answer.
“Hands up if you think Mr Brogue Boots should get his hair cut.”
I wasn’t being rude about his lockdown locks. He’d suggested to me that I ask the question.
He had begun to resemble “Ted” from “The Fast Show”, the whiskery sideburns adding to the effect. He wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Yes!” Tom the lurcher’s mum shouted. “He looks like a character from ‘Emmerdale’.”
“No,” another said. “He should keep it as it is.”
Through all of this, The Angel Of The North, who was sitting by his side, was shaking her head. It was clear she’d had enough of her man’s hairy look.
Bubbles from next door piped up and started talking about her own hair.
Admittedly, it was much longer than it was a year ago, but it was still silky smooth and smart looking.
Taking in the chequerboard of squares on my laptop screen, I glanced around at the variety of hairstyles on display.
Both Mrs Bancroft’s and the Fragrant Mrs Putter’s hair looked longer and thicker than ever.
Pelly Sheepwash had put hers up, which in itself was an indication of how long it had grown.
Mr Loggins and Kid Curry looked like they were due for a trim, and I knew that Mr Grigg’s needed reshaping with the nail scissors.
The next day, we saw Mr Brogue Boots in the street.
“What was the verdict, then?” he asked as we looked down at him from the upstairs windows.
We were in the process of hanging two Greek flags at the front of the house (as you do) to mark Greek Independence Day.
It was a special bicentennial year this year, marking 200 years since the start of its war of independence.
Sadly, because of pandemic restrictions, there were no marching bands in Corfu, the island we know so well.
Let’s hope they can celebrate – albeit a year late – in 2022.
“I thought the verdict was get it cut, and Mr Grigg thought it was to keep your hair as it is,” I told him. “So it’s up to you, really.”
He pondered for a while, then announced he would probably get it cut after all.
“The Angel’s not too keen on it,” he admitted.
Then he put on a quizzical face and asked us what we were doing.
It’s not every day that your friends are hanging out from their bedroom windows with a pair of Greek flags.
We explained what was going on, then Mr Mamma Mia walked by on his way to the village shop to get a paper.
“What you two doing up there?” he asked.
So Mr Brogue Boots took over the story and explained that it was Greek Independence Day.
“Well,” Mr Mamma Mia said. “You learn something new every day.”
He looked Mr Brogue Boots up and down as if he were giving him some kind of appraisal.
“There’s something different about you these days,” he said. “What is it?”
“The hair?” I suggested, still trying to tie the flag string on to the window catch.
“Oh, yes,” Mr Mamma Mia agreed. “You should get that cut. You look like a character from ‘Emmerdale’.”
With that, he set off round the corner to get his paper.
“Well,” Mr Brogue Boots said. “That told me.” ■