It was running through my mind as I chased them. Those little oinkers. All I could see bobbing in front of me. Pork chop and bacon.

Today was the big day for all of Surrey. The County show. Bank holiday Monday, the second one in May, is always Surrey County Show day. It attracts thousands from near and far. It is a raucous, joyous celebration of all things country.

We’ve never been. Before today, anyway. We were determined to go this year. For a number of reasons. One reason was the terrier races. Every year we miss the terrier races. A sad, sad state of affairs. The terrier races are hilarious. Having decided we were definitely going, it was a shame, therefore, to find out that there would be no terrier races at this years show. Damn it!

And then we read the replacement and we smiled. With typical British craziness someone quickly invented pig racing. Oh frabjuos day! With what joy we left home early this morning.

And, indeed, it was a very good idea, leaving early. We wanted to get there before the crowds. And we did. We were directed to an almost deserted car park, right near the exit, and had no difficulty hopping on the free park and ride bus to the show ground. We were a small group entering the nicely sedate park.

We saw some amazing cows, some wonderful goats, a few Edwardian women showing off their donkeys and, the pig racing. The goats were especially cute. I love goats. I want one. I’m going to call him Satan. But he has to be a big evil looking brute. The ones at the show today were all cute and cuddly and you wanted to either take them home or milk them and make cheese.

We also saw black highland cows! I thought they only came in brown. And the cute little mini-cows, the Dexters. The whole day was just one cute farmyard animal after the other. About 800 breeds of sheep, countless dogs, beautifully sleek ponies jumping fences with 11 year old girls on their backs. But we mustn’t forget the pigs.

We were ready for the racing, standing by the fence, an excellent spot among the gathering crowd. This was going to be a very popular event. The woman started her chat to the audience and suddenly I was dragged, protesting from the crowd and marched around the back of a small horse float. Inside I was greeted by six crazy little pigs, just waiting for the off.

The pigs, with little numbers on their backs, continually jostled for the best position at the front of the float, waiting impatiently for the race to begin. The farmer was gee-ing up the crowd, the young chap in the dress with Heidi’s plaits was in the float with me, gee-ing up the pigs to a pre-race frenzy. The woman on the microphone was beseeching the crowd to give vent to loud shrieking and much raising of arms.

And the gate went up! Insanity reigned as the pigs flew up the track, leaping effortlessly over the little hurdles, me and Heidi in close pursuit, giving them helpful little prods. It was all pretty hilarious. I think the crowd enjoyed it. Three times I had to race with the pigs. It was like the bull thing in Pamplona only a lot safer.

We left soon after this as the crowds grew and grew. As we walked out the exit, a long queue of eager show goers was stretching up the street. We managed to get a seat on a bus and then headed back to the university where Sidney was now firmly surrounded by hundreds of cars.

A wonderful day. I’ve put some photos up here but here’s one of me and the pigs to start off with…

Helping with the pig racing at Surrey County Show

I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. As usually happens when I’ve had a few drinks, I woke up at 6am feeling a bit rubbish. I managed to drag myself down to the kitchen and made a coffee. I then staggered, poodles clinging to my legs, into the lounge room where I collapsed in front of the TV. I watched Breakfast long enough to hear that the British entrant in Eurovision came last this year, while the German entry won. The next thing I knew it was 8:30am and my coffee was cold. The same news item was on the TV. It was like I’d been sucked into some time vortex thing where time moved but TV didn’t. I thought about this for a bit, thinking, perhaps I was in a Simpsons episode, and then went and made another cup of coffee.

After shopping and Mirinda’s weekly phone call, we spent a lot of the day in the garden except for the big slice we spent at the garden centre at Secretts. Mirinda loves walking right around the entire place before deciding what to buy. This takes about three days. Everything is then repeated with a trolley, loading it impossibly high. As usual we managed to buy everything except the one thing we had originally gone to buy – sweet peas for the obelisks.

We did overhear a woman who hates radishes to the exclusion of everything else. Radishes are the only thing she hates. Not world poverty, not stupid politicians, not even traffic wardens. No. The only thing, in the entire universe, that she hates…RADISHES. What a fantastic life she has.

I made pork with a pear and apple sauce for dinner and we watched two episodes of Dr Who before retiring. Lovely day.

I should explain something. A ‘rescue’ dog, as I referred to the other day, is a dog that has come from a dog’s home after suffering some sort of abuse or neglect. Our neighbours, and indeed quite a few people in Farnham, taken them on to help them re-adjust to a world that doesn’t involve some sort of physical and/or mental pain.

Anyway, that has nothing to do with this entry. Today we went to Ben & Monali’s for lunch. I haven’t seen them for ages. Given that Imogen has grown a year we figured it’s been a year. I have seen Ben once in there, when we went out to dinner with Mirinda’s work chums, but Monali and Imogen were not there. According to Imogen, she’s “not a baby, I’m 2!“. She’s also quite pleased with her potty skills.

So, I was looking forward to one of Monali’s wonderful Indian feasts. But here’s the thing. Ben didn’t give her much warning that he’d invited us for lunch so she had to throw something together.

Now I have always said that Monali is one of my favourite chefs in the entire universe but that opinion has always been based on her Indian food. Well, her British/European food is bloody brilliant as well.

Slow roasted lamb that melted off the bone, mashed carrots, a sauté of vegetables, mint sauce…fantastic. Super delicious. Loved it. Mustn’t forget the dessert. A chocolate pudding with pears. Sounds rich and it was. With just a daub of ice cream. Perfect.

We had a lovely afternoon. Imogen has become very entertaining in the last year. She’s very articulate and very cheeky with it. I didn’t have to sit through any DVDs but did spend quite a bit of time watching her ride her scooter round and round what Ben laughingly calls their back yard.

When we arrived home, afterwards, we played lots of music, very loudly and sang a lot. Hopefully that annoyed the neighbours.

Mirinda and Imogen

Today after lunch in the Science Museum cafe, I popped into the shop to check out what sort of stuff they sell at a museum devoted to technology and invention.

An amazing array of telescopes, unstoppable remote control cars, the smallest remote control helicopter (“Fly from your armchair“) and all manner of other boy’s toys things.

They also have a whole eco section with solar powered portable device chargers and the like. All in all, the shop is pretty cool.

I also went to the bookshop (always cool) and bought the sixth Hitchhiker book (And Another Thing) written, not entirely, by Douglas Adams because he died. Eoin Colfer, the writer of the Artemis Fowl novels, took up the baton and continued the adventures of Arthur and Ford and Trillian and Zaphod.

We’re hoping it’ll be good as we are both big fans of the books. The books were the reason why we use Hotblack Desiato as agents for the flat at Islington. Adams used them as the name of a character in one of the books. So far book 6 (page 15) is very funny and just like the other five novels.

Our neighbours are weird. I think I’ve said something similar before. I think they’re getting weirder.

Mirinda has noticed that the father often takes the dogs for a walk late at night. In the park. Unless there’s a good, bright moon, the park is pitch black.

So, tonight I’m in the bedroom, folding up the clean clothes, Carmen and Day-z helping in the way that only they can, by sleeping and suddenly there’s this god-awful screaming. Naturally the poodles went crazy and started barking then dashed off the bed and out the back where they proceeded to yell at the fence down the end of the garden. being a human and therefore having the ability to out think a poodle, I looked out the front window.

Next door’s porch light was on and the new rescue dog was sitting there emitting the screechy noise. I think it was trying to sing. Meanwhile I could hear our two right down the back of the garden barking at nothing.

The front door was open and the dog was bathed in the hall light. And then the father came out, lead in hand and led the dog up to the park. Interestingly, it was just the new rescue dog and not Otis, the scaredy-cat whippet they own.

It took ages for the poodles to come back but come back they did. They leapt onto the bed, collapsed and were instantly asleep. Wish I was a poodle sometimes.

I worked in the garden this afternoon, removing the two strawberry plants I put in two years ago. They had managed to completely cover the bed they were in, multiplying to around a thousand plants. Unfortunately, among the strawberry plants and the assorted weeds were some nasty nettles. After a chance brushing against my hand, I put my gardening gloves on!

Of course this was in the afternoon after lunch in town with Mirinda. The day wasn’t as hot as it has been and our wander round St Katherine Docks and the Tower was very pleasant.

We discovered an amazing sculpture. It is a massive sundial, designed by Wendy Taylor in 1973 and seems to be floating in space because it is held in place by three big chains. There is a gnomon poking through the middle of the circular time piece. It is this that the sun strikes and casts a shadow. But here’s the thing, although the sun was out and we were casting shadows, the sundial had no shadow! I figured the batteries were flat.

The sundial is just down from Tower Bridge, which looked fantastic so close. We wandered back to the gherkin along the river bank, passing the tourist hordes milling around the many entrances to the Tower.

Another lovely Wednesday.

Sundial at entrance to St Katherine Docks

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I watched a programme about the opera singer, Danielle de Niese tonight. Apart from an amazing voice, a great, sparkling personality and a wonderful talent, she was the youngest person to ever win Johnny Young’s Young Talent Time! She was 9. Of course, she’s Australian. You can read about her here.

I had a lovely day today. Apart from the usual shopping, dog walking and talking to mum and dad, I had lunch with Dawn.

Normally we go to a pub for a meal, either over here at The Albion or over in Haslemere at The Mill. I thought this was silly when I could easily whip up something similar so I suggested we have lunch in the garden. This was especially tempting given the lovely weather we’re having at the moment.

I decided to make tabbouleh with a crisp leaf salad and oak smoked salmon. Actually, I only decided on oak smoked when I saw the packet in Waitrose.

I remember a long time ago, going to a family party, celebrating the successful escape by some Armenian political refugees, given by James Balian who I met…to be honest I can’t remember how I met James but he was a film student and I was in a few of his class projects.

One of the things about Armenian family parties is that everyone mucks in with the food preparation. I was given a big bowl of minced up meat and, what I can only describe as ‘stuff’, and told I was making the kofta. It was very squishy and quite difficult to make stick on the skewers. Everyone thought it was very funny and a few helpful ladies gave me pointers. Now I make my own koftas and I thank them for showing me how to do it properly!

Anyway, while I was squishing around in my bowl, one lady was busy chopping up bits of tomato, cucumber and mint very, very finely. She had a nice pile in front of her. When I asked what she was making, she said tabbouleh. She then let me know how difficult it was and how it was very important to get everything cut up nice and finely. I fell in love with tabbouleh that day.

In saying that, I’ve not had any for many years so decided, a lovely summery day was just the time to re-acquaint myself with it. I found a rough sort of recipe and adapted it to what I had then spent the morning preparing it.

I feel obliged to say it was pretty good! Dawn was so impressed she asked me for the recipe and insisted she was going to force feed it to Nicktor, who, as we all know, doesn’t do salad. It made a lovely accompaniment to a gloriously (not too hot) sunny day, on our patio, under the big umbrella.

I am in a dilemma.

I have recently been headhunted for a role in to be Dean of the law school that trains all the barristers in a certain small wet celtic nation. I was very interested when they called, being more than usually pissed off with work and GNF, so agreed to be interviewed. It was a long journey – 12 hours each way by taxi, tube, train, ferry and taxi (and then taxi, ferry, train, tube, train, taxi to get back home). Sadly I couldn’t fly as I found the country concerned was too wet and too celtic for any business class flights to travel to (seriously). And in any case the volcano blew up that weekend.

So I finally arrived, stayed over 2 nights had 1 day sight-seeing and an hours interview. The interview panel was amazing – two High Court judges (both ladies), the under secretary of the attorney general’s department, a professor of economics from their top university, and a senior counsel. It is a very senior post, reporting into a standing committee of judges and senior counsels, and involving much collaboration with a whole variety of legal big wigs. The interview went well, though the lady judges frowned at me most of the time – possibly because I wore a skirt with frilly ruffles (deliberately as a symbol of non conservatism) and when asked about my management style declared that I liked change and development and promoted it with my teams (I had to make this clear as I had only discovered that day that the motto of the law school is “we shall not change”). I also had to make it clear I was not a barrister and when asked if I had a criminal record I said “Yes, 11 convicts in my direct line of ancestry – you should see my family tree”.

Despite all this, they have asked me back for a final round interview and I get the distinct impression that I am the favoured candidate.

The buildings of this place are amazing – built about 500 years ago – and the office of the Dean is literally about 30 feet long and 25 feet wide and is used as a room location for period films sometimes.

Tempting!

But … that motto “we shall not change” when I saw it I turned to the CEO and said “Are you sure you want to interview me?” Also as an institution it is a monopoly and elitist and possibly …. a bit dull and maybe not that challenging

5 staff, 500 students, being completely in charge v the chaotic minefield of ABC with its 10000 students and hundreds of staff

So – a dilemma.

Today was the hottest of the year so far. According to the weather station, at 5pm it was 40! It’s important to remember that the weather station thermometer is hit directly by the sun for most of the day, so it’s not really the temperature in the garden, as such. It’s actually more accurate if it’s cloudy. At the moment (11:14pm) it is 15 and a light breeze has sprung up, wafting wisteria scent through the house.

It was, indeed, quite warm today. To that end I mowed the lawn early and walked the dogs late, making sure I was in the house working on my dissertation proposal during the midday heat.

We also have an almost full moon. I just went for a wander up the back and it’s very bright and, fortunately, a lot cooler. So sleep should be easy.

Here’s what the park looked like this afternoon.

Farnham Park on the hottest day so far

Sometimes, and it’s generally on a weekend, we are disturbed by a lone chopper that buzzes around our neighbourhood like a pesky gnat. It is sometimes over the park, other times over the round-a-bouts and sometimes over the town. It’s a police chopper so there’s not much you can do about it.

Well, last night was one of those ‘sometimes’. It stopped at around midnight. I was ready to start throwing things at it as it had been buzzing for about two hours on and off. It was over the round-a-bout and straying over the park.

This would have been just an annoying little footnote in this life of mine except for the repercussion. When I walked up to the shops this morning I was accosted by a young girl, looking confused and lost. She asked if I knew the way to Sainsbury’s. I told her to walk with me and I would show her the way. I can be quite the messiah when I want to.

She explained that her dad had been driving her to work (she was about 20) but had had to stop because the road was completely taped off and the police were turning everyone back. Indeed, as we passed one of the roads that come up to the park, there were SOCOs (Scene Of Crime Officers) everywhere, measuring things, putting down the little plastic things with numbers on them. It was all very CSI.

I bid farewell to my charge, pointing her in the right direction as I ventured on towards Waitrose. Upon my return, apart from being glad that I didn’t find her wandering, still lost, among the trees, I strolled purposefully up to the police officer in charge and said:

“I say, my good man, can you tell me what has transpired here?”
“No, sorry sir, it is an ongoing investigation.”
“May I enquire, then, whether this could be a possible explanation for the annoying helicopter and it’s infernal racket above my house last night?”
“Yes, sir, that will be it.”

Damn the criminals!