The Village

It’s been a while since I stayed in a village. And it seemed the people in the village hadn’t strayed out for a while longer.

“Yes that’s your key. It’s got one of those swipe card things on it, good isn’t it!” came the voice from the receptionist, stroke barmaid, stoke cook, stroke cleaner. Well I guess it was impressive for a small hotel. It really was great that this credit card siized piece of plastic could act as my door key. In theory I could put it in my wallet with my other credit card size things for safe keeping. It’s just I couldn’t. Attached to this credit card swipe key was a solid ten inch plastic key fob. I suppose I could put the ‘key card’ in my wallet, it’s just the key fob was twice as big as it.

“Okay” I said. “I’m coming back around 1am, that will be alright wont it?” I probed. And with that I got a look of astonishment. A look as if I was to break the ‘no going out after dark’ rule on page five in the Almondsbury village rule book. As well as breaking that rule I was also discrediting the local pub, was it not good enough for a nights entertainment?

Once she recovered from the astonishment that I was actually leaving the village, she paused, then tried to remember the protocol for after twelve arrivals. Obviously it had been a long time since anyone dared come back after twelve, let along leave the sacred village.

“Well you see, the door can be quite temperamental. Some times it just doesn’t work. But normally that isn’t a problem as the night porter is here till twelve. But you want to come back after twelve so he wont be here” she added. Not only had they completely missed the point of having a credit card sized key (with ten inch key fob) but they sort of missed the point about what a key is designed for. To open doors. Without other people having to be there.

When I reached my room I started to see why they were having problems with their new door key technology. “Key card solutions, local solutions for local businesses” read the sign on the door reader. It looked like it had been the product of a Technology project for the local secondary school. And true to form, sixteen swipes later, the door finally opened. Of course the curiosity got the better of me, not only did it take sixteen swipes to open my door, but five to open the store room along the corridor, and three to open room number six opposite. They were now missing another point, keys are really meant to open just your door, not every other room in the hotel.

Maybe I was being a bit harsh. The staff were friendly, I had complimentary biscuits. Complimentary shampoo. In fact I was so emerged in the complimentary compliments that I suddenly forgot the whole reason why I was staying in this hotel in the first place. I had to be at a birthday party in an hour.

I went down to the reception, stroke bar, stoke restaurant to ask the waiter, stoke barman, stroke receptionist, stroke cleaner, stroke manager if they could order me a taxi as soon as possible. Then I forgot. I was in a village.

“Taxi, you want a taxi?” came the response. It was if nobody had ever needed to leave this village before. “You want one now you say?”, this time giving me the look as if I had just asked for a steak and fries in a Sushi restaurant. After looking at his glazed stare for what seemed like minutes, I decided maybe it would be better if I ordered the taxi myself. With this he handed me a sheet of paper with all the taxi companies on it. Progress.

I dialled the first taxi company. “Hello” came the voice. “Hello, is that a taxi company?” I asked. “Where do you want to go?” the voice replied. “Winterbourne” I responded. With the sound of astonishment as if I had just ordered peas to go with my steak and fries in the Sushi restaurant, came an eternal pause. The voice replied “Oh no, I don’t think I can help you there my friend, you really need to book it a day in advance, I could take you at ten o’clock as a favour though?”. As much as I appreciated his act of goodwill, it was now six o’clock. Waiting four hours for a taxi seemed a little excessive.

I phoned the next number,

With the muffled scream of kids in the background, the answer came back “Well you see, first I’ve got to take the kids to the cinema, then I’ve got to pick the missus up from Bingo, then I’ve got to have my dinner, what about nine thirty?”. It seemed the ‘taxi companies’ were no more than men driving around in their cars, answering their mobiles and taking people when it fitted in with their social calendar for that evening. Much as I appreciated John’s honesty in telling me that I couldn’t go now as his wife was at the bingo, it wasn’t helping me get to where I wanted to be.

After ten calls I put the ‘taxi company’ sheet down and drove myself. Maybe I could book a taxi now, with plenty of notice, to drop me to my car in the evening. I waked back that night. I needed six hours notice apparently if I wanted to get a taxi back. But at least I managed to get in, with twenty six swipes.

I love villages.

Definition
village
noun [C]
a group of houses and other buildings, such as a church, a school and some shops, which is smaller than a town, usually in the countryside:
a fishing village
a mountain village
a village shop
a village green (= an area of grass in the middle of a village)
Many people come from the outlying/surrounding villages to work in the town.

Now Almondsbury is'nt that silly sounding, but these villages are........

-Compton Pauncefoot (near Yeovil)
-Germansweek (near Launceston)
-Goosnargh (north of Preston)
-Haselbury Plucknett (near Yeovil)
-Helions Bumpstead (near Saffron Walden)
-Hopton Wafers (east of Ludlow)
-Huish Episcopi near (Langport, Somerset)
-Kettlesing Bottom (west of Harrogate, North Yorkshire)
-Mabe Burnthouse (Falmouth, Cornwall)
-Nempnett Thrubwell (between Bath and Weston super Mare)
-Pratt's Bottom (near Farnborough)
-Ryme Intrinsica (near Yeovil)
-Six Mile Bottom (near Cambridge)
-Westward Ho (Devon)
-Yetts O'Muckhart (east of Stirling)




The delightful 'Bowl Inn', pub, stroke hotel thing in Almondsbury near Bristol



the village church




A typical village house