Slow going
I don’t know if you remember—or were even aware, in fact—of the Lake Wobegon series by Garrison Keillor. For me, it was a radio programme about a fictional town in Minnesota where, each week, he began by saying, “It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon.” Pinoso is rather like that—quiet. Life here rarely moves at speed. While a few people always seem to be hurrying off to do something “mightily important”, Pinoso generally takes its time. Last week we went to the Christmas concert given by the town band. When it ended, they played the town’s anthem and everyone stood; if I’d been wearing a hat, I’d have taken it off. Perhaps a hand-on-heart moment was called for. Maggie leaned over and whispered, “It’s the Trumpton theme.” I’m sure she meant it fondly. We spent Christmas Eve with friends who live in the centre of Pinoso. They remarked that most of their neighbours live to a grand old age. There were plenty of stories: “Pilar is 93—and remember so-and-so? She lived to be 106.” The longev...