It's difficult to know what to write on the first post.
There is pressure to demonstrate extreme wit and a delectable writing style, not to mention the illustration of a full and rich life just crammed with amusing and interesting incidents and conversations.
I think I will rebelliously shrug off such expectations, and pretend that although I clearly possess all of the above, I am choosing, yes choosing, not to show them off.
The fact that I am a single mother living in a tiny village, who does really nothing much these days in terms of conversations, and definitely isn't present at the scene of any interesting incidents any more, is by and by. No-one need know that.
The village is in the North West, and a canal flows (well...not really 'flows' so much as lurks) through it. I forget which one, which is rather remiss of me since I very nearly live in it. I'll Google it later. Or I could go to the shop and buy a postcard of it.
It's a unique little shop. They sell biscuits, and Rosie and Jim dolls. More shelf space is given to cat food than to people food. The colours of the plastic bottle tops to denote skimmed, semi-skimmed and full cream milk are all different to the usual code of red, green and blue respectively, which are found in every other shop. They sell sweets and horseshoes. They sell bread and books about the canal.
The unfortunate thing about the Canal Village is the M6. It's too close, and by that I mean that everyone in this village almost lives on the hard shoulder. It roars when the wind blows.
The pink church and the local pub being named the Romping Donkey make up for it though.
It is a village of eccentricities, which is exactly how a village should be. When I moved in, before I was a mother, a woman popped round to ask me my star sign to see if I was compatible with her son. She beamed with approval when I, too surprised to resist, divulged it to be Capricorn. She gave me some information regarding his eligibility, then left me a teaspoon so that I could make cups of tea while I moved in. That teaspoon was invaluable, once I'd acquired a kettle, some cups and the teabags.
I must admit though, that despite her kind intentions, I hid from her after that day, for quite a long time.
I shall return shortly with canal information.