A Horsey Tale

There are some horsey ladies who ride up and down our lane.  Nothing wrong with that.  The thing is, they all wear these high visibility bright yellow vests  with "Polite Notice, please drive slowly" written on the back.  Now, at first glance, it looks like "Police Notice".  Okay..with me so far?  On their riding hats, they also have this blue and white checked tape.  They actually look like police people on horseback.  Why would you want to look like a police officer unless you are on some kind of power trip, or maybe you are just a bossy old moo and want to frighten people in their cars?  The next time I drive past them, I might just drive fast and see if they chase me. Do you dare me?

One of the horsey ladies once accused poor old Mr Forrester (80) of racing down the lane at break-neck speed in his car and trying to kill her entire family, who were walking down the lane.  Now, I find this very hard to believe because in all the years I have lived in this village, I have only ever seen Mr F driving at about 15 miles an hour.  Mrs Angry even called the police and reported him.  The poor old soul was really shaken up by it all but thankfully she was told to stop wasting police time.  Phew!  I had visions of having to make him a cake with a saw hidden in the middle to take to him in prison so that he could make his escape.
 

.....And another thing, why is it that the horses always want to poo right outside the entrance to our drive? It's just not funny, you know, especially if Roberto has just cleaned his car (it's his pride and joy).  In fact, when he has cleaned his car, he is very reluctant to let me go out in it and likes to keep it in the garage until the rain stops.  I know, girls, it's a man thing!  Funnily enough, I always thought cars were self-cleaning. 

Funny Things that Happen in a Yorkshire Village

The thing about living on a quiet country lane in a quiet country village is that you get to know people quite quickly.  We see the same cars coming up the lane where we live, the same people taking their dogs for a walk, the same old lady on her bike, not that I'm hiding behind the curtains with binoculars or anything.  Everything becomes familiar, so when something or someone different comes along, you notice straight away. 

Just lately, the lane inhabitants have been noticing a large shiny black Bentley driving past every now and again.  Now there are not that many of us living on our lane and only a couple of farms at the end of it, so we have all been wondering who the blonde lady driver of the big black Bentley has been visiting (just out of interest, you understand).  One of our elderly neighbours, Mr Forrester (80 years young) decided to investigate.  The big black Bentley had driven past his house and he hadn't seen it coming back down the lane again.  Mr Forrester jumped into his little tractor and set about his investigation - he had carrots to collect from a field, you know!  He arrived at the end of the lane where there is a small lay-by.  Parked up was the big black Bentley and a white transit van.  "Wonder where the people are?", he asked himself.  They were nowhere near the farms or any houses.  Suddenly the door of the white Transit van opened and the blonde lady appeared, looking slightly dishevilled, followed by a man, presumably the white van man.  Mr F could see inside the back of the van and there was a mattress on the floor.  The moral of the story is, even if you think your little assignations are secret, there's always a Mr Forrester collecting his carrots and then reporting his findings to the rest of the village. 

Another funny thing that happened was when we got new neighbours in the rented bunglow next door to our house.  It was a couple, maybe in their late 50's.  I used to see the lady walking her dog up the lane every afternoon.  Can I just put this politely, dear amis?  I think she had a drink problem!  We used to find empty vodka bottles behind our greenhouse and one day my husband, Roberto, drove past and saw her rolling around on the grass, unable to get up. 

We rent a shed to a young mechanic called Scott.  He's always doing up old cars in the shed and he doesn't cause any problems to anyone.  He reported to us one morning that the previous night the  lady next door had come to see him and shouted at him for making too much noise.  Well, we hadn't heard a squeak that night.  However, Scott felt bad about it and went into the shop where this lady worked and apologised the next day.  She said "I don't know what you are talking about".  She couldn't remember doing it. 

As for our other neighbours, well that's a story for another day chers amis.