Village vignette

The civic hall had had better days but had only fitfully partaken of them. Once upon the time its floorboards had groaned to the foxtrot strains of Yeti Ibbotson And His Darling Tarzanettes, all teeth, Brilliantine and accidental syncopation. In later years it was the haunt of jumble sales and the village pig crayoning club. The pig crayoning craze was a nine day wonder: the pigs weren't much fond of it, the farmers didn't see a profit in it and there's not much that you can do with a pig once you've drawn a crude picture of a house on it in thick brown wax that you couldn't have done by leaving the poor beast well alone.