"New government. New monarch. Same old Hadleigh" 

This helpful text message from Father Derek was what greeted me as the Taylors returned home after an extended summer break. 

Now, holidays in Heaven are all fabulous, but they cling to the 'last shall be first and the first shall be last' principle. This means that earthly places that sit at the very bottom of TripAdvisor-style ratings are upgraded to the very top. After all, their residents have suffered enough by dint of their post codes and deserve a break. 

So refreshed from our sojourn to Great Cornard, I quickly realised that an awful lot of 'stuff' had happened in my absence. 

I know little about Liz Truss, the new prime minister, except that she represents a Norfolk seat, has a somewhat  disproportionate enthusiasm for  cheese and once fell foul of something called the 'Turnip Taleban', which I guess was a radical root crop revanchist movement. 

In my experience, nothing much good for Suffolk comes out of Norfolk, so I'm keeping my expectations, at the moment, as low as the Broads. That said, at least we've got Therese Coffey, King Raewald's granny as Liz's number two to protect us from the barbarians to our north. 

The death of HRH Queen Elizabeth II has certainly made me pause and reflect. 

I'm not the greatest fan of queens, having come a spectacular cropper on Aldham Common during 'bigot night' at the behest of Mary Tudor. But the late monarch was a woman of a profound Christian faith. And that alone, in our age of bubbleheaded 'spirituality', is an impressive enough quality for me. 

Reading back copies of Hadleigh Nub News, I also see that the good folks of the town have responded, by and large, in their usual quiet and dignified manner. 

Not for them, leaving gifts of marmalade sandwiches outside the Deanery. (What is this about that midget bear in a dufflecoat? It is our Lord Jesus Christ who has led the late Queen onto her everlasting journey – not a stuffed toy with Ben Wishaw's voice). 

Not for them, seeing images of corgis and the Archbishop of Canterbury gambolling together in the cumulonimbus clouds high above the Conch. 

Not for them, acting out displays of utterly transparent corporate insincerity ('As a mark of respect to Queen Elizabeth II, Hadleigh Amalgamated Drug Pushers will be ceasing operations at our Calais Street headquarters between 11am and noon on 19 September'). 

With one exception, no-one has tried to impose their preferred mourning mode on others. Of course, that exception if to be found within Mayor Gordon 'Jilted John' Macleod's Hadleigh Town Council. 

I understand that a communication has been sent by the Town Clerk that sets out in her very precise and pernickety manner what is expected of town councillors. Basically, keep a lid on your social media, avoid public events and if you do pitch up to anything always wear a black armband. 

Apparently, instructions for hemlines and whether suits should be accompanied by waistcoats or not will be issued over the weekend. 

Well down, Hadders. Here's to a respectful Monday. 

Otherwise, the town seems much the same during my brief absence. Various roadworks continue to annoy and frustrate. The ones along Bridge Street are especially inconvenient. Hopefully, Footsie Grutchfield will get his front-facing patio outside the Old School built sooner rather than later. 

And just as our migratory birds bid us farewell, I see that the first potholes are making a welcome reappearance. Which means one thing: Cllr Mick 'Macadam' Fraser will be doing his round filling 'em all in again shortly! 

Rowland Taylor's Ghost is a Hadleigh resident whose views are his own

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