Should Audlem Online Have an Agony Aunt?

Should Audlem Online Have an Agony Aunt?

After my recent suggestion that Audlem Online should launch its very own dating service (surely the only site where someone could genuinely advertise 'loves long walks to the Co-op and candlelit meals in the Shroppie Fly'), another idea has now been floating around in my fertile mind – an Agony Aunt column?

The thinking is simple: residents send in their burning dilemmas, and a wise local volunteer responds with sage, calming advice. Well either that, or someone who's nosy enough to enjoy sticking their oar in. Let's be honest, we're not exactly short of candidates for that in Audlem.

All submissions would be strictly anonymous -- though in a village this size, readers will probably guess by the second sentence. ('Dear Auntie, I live in a house painted red with seven wind chimes and a labradoodle called Trevor' Say no more.)

Every village needs one wise voice to lean on in times of crisis. Unfortunately, in Audlem several of those voices are otherwise engaged, fighting the Muller Housing Development, because bad ideas shouldn't get built. That leaves the rest of us to muddle through life's everyday dramas -- such as neighbours with over-enthusiastic hedge trimmers, swans with attitude, and the eternal mystery of who keeps pinching the best parking space outside the Co-op.

It's been pointed out that Audlem's problems are not quite the same as those in national newspapers. -- less 'rampant sex scandals' and more 'mysterious wheelbarrow disappearances, hedge-trimming feuds, and who keeps letting the swans into the kitchen?

There's a risk the column could descend into a spectator sport. After all, nothing unites Audlem quite like reading about other people's problems.

Of course, we would promise anonymity, but in reality the column could quickly become a guessing game. 'Sounds like Mrs Jones on Cheshire Street to me, always going on about her begonias'

If nothing else, it might save us from that awkward moment in the Co-op queue where someone decides to unburden their soul right between the frozen chips and the checkout.

And let's face it -- if this goes ahead, the first letter in the postbag will probably be: 'Dear Auntie -- how do I stop people writing ridiculous letters to Audlem Online?'

Possible letters might include:

• Dear Auntie -- my neighbour has started wearing hi-vis to put the bins out. He says it's for 'safety reasons'. Should I follow suit, or stage an intervention before the whole street looks like a council work crew on pot hole filling duty?.
• Dear Auntie -- I think my Alexa is gossiping. Every time I mention the Parish Council, she flashes blue and plays the EastEnders theme tune. Is this normal behaviour, or do I need holy water?
• Dear Auntie -- I tried to liven up the village fete by organising ferret racing. Unfortunately, three ferrets are still missing and one has joined the Audlem Voices. How do I break the news to the committee?
• Dear Auntie -- my husband accidentally joined the knitting circle thinking it was a new pub quiz team. He's now made three cardigans and refuses to stop. Should I encourage him or stage an intervention at The Bridge next Tuesday?
• Dear Auntie -- my partner insists on singing along to every song at Open Mic Night. Should I smile supportively or pretend I'm single?

So, what do we think? Is Audlem ready for its very own problem page -- a beacon of comfort and wisdom? Or would it simply become the hottest new spectator sport since 'spot the pothole before the Parish Council does'?

Letters to the editor (and to the potential Auntie) are, of course, warmly invited. Just don't expect them to keep a straight face whilst reading them.