Nanna's sausage rolls set the smoke alarms off this morning, which in turn set Reg the Jack Russell off.
Being veggies, of course, they're not really sausage rolls at all, but Nanna makes them and gives us a bag now and then.

There's swine flu in Paignton, and the world's press are here. All the satellite vans were parked in the zoo overflow last night. I was hoping Reg would have the opportunity to cock his leg on the Sky TV news-o-drome but by the time we went out for a walk this morning they had vanished in the night leaving not a trace, seeking something else with which to fill their endless hours of rolling news.
There's a great advert for the youth of Paignton at around the one-minute mark in this video clip from BBC News. Fair play to him, though. It's a good gag.



10cc were good last night, very good. What it must be like to be able to sing and play like that...

I'd like to teach the world to sing

I had a phone call from the manager of the New Seekers today.
He had read the piece with Graham Gouldman and wondered if it would be possible to do something similar with his band.
They're coming to Torquay in July.
Absolutely! I think we're cornering the market in Seventies pop icons. First Jimmy Osmond, then Graham Gouldman, and now a New Seeker. It's been quite a year so far.
Training tonight was 300 metres flat out on the newly-mown grass of Clennon Valley, then jog back. Repeat 10 times. I started badly but got faster. By the last one I was flying, relatively speaking.

MRS H was on the television today.
Near the end of the Torquay v Burton game the cameraman swung round on the Popular side crowd and found her in full flow on the phone, looking rather lovely.
The commentator said: "They're on the phone but they have nothing to worry about at the moment, Burton Albion."
By the time we got home from the game several people had already told Younger Daughter "I've just seen your mum on television", so we watched the recording and sure enough, there she was.
For the record, she's not a Burton Albion supporter, and she wasn't anxiously following the score from the Cambridge game. She was arranging with her mother how to get her mother's windy Jack Russell back home to Brixham from our house.
In the picture the shoulder in the chequered jacket belongs to Younger Daughter, by the way. I was safely in the press box sipping champagne and eating swans and caviare.

Schoolboy error

Shane's pedometer said 7.3 miles. Map My Run said 6.5. It felt like a beast.
The setting of clocks to BST means lighter evenings and runs through the lanes on club nights for South Devon Athletic Club.
We went up a big hill, down a big hill towards Stoke Gabriel, back up a big hill to Waddeton, and then back down to the leisure centre.

You might expect an experienced runner to wear the right socks but I didn't, and ended up with a bloody heel in return for the schoolboy error.
The Lovely Lady Group went quickly and we lost three old men off the back. Fortunately they found their way home without mishap a few minutes behind us.
The London Marathon runners went up on the coach today. The Caerphilly Kid texted at 7.30am inviting entries for the temperature game. I was the only one who guessed correctly that the roadside gauge at Taunton would say 12 degrees.
The Caerphilly Kid and Elmer had eaten all their sandwiches before Bridgwater and Elmer was already asking if they were there yet.
Later they texted to say they were caught in a loop at the London Pride stall at Excel, endlessly returning for more free samples. I told them to stay put. Stewards would surely carry them out when they fell down.

Brighton....

....is a long way away.
We spent the day there today while Younger Daughter underwent a university interview.
With no parking whatsoever on campus there was nothing for it but for Mrs H and me to head into town for a stroll on the beach, a promenade on the pier and an amble through The Lanes.
We found an amazing shop selling ancient weaponry and armour, right up to Bren guns. Not that we have any interest in military memorabilia, but it was fascinating. There was an ancient Saxon broadsword on sale for four grand, and a couple of genuine Winchester rifles like the ones John Wayne spun round his head in True Grit.
We were absorbed and fascinated right up to the moment we saw a sign saying "'This is my favourite shop' - Jim Davidson", at which point we left.
A pint of Dragon's Den at the Wetherspoons beer festival set us up for the afternoon.
Passing a phone box I noticed cards advertising taxis, pizzas, and the services of a 'Busty Pre-Op Trans-sexual'. What can it all mean?
For the journey back, we decided to put our trust in satnav and see where it took us. Against our better judgement the Satnav Lady eschewed the route back via Salisbury and the A303 and sent us instead to Bournemouth, Bridport and the hilltop horror that is the Poundbury eyesore.
Either way, it's a shade over four hours, but the Bridport run was a bit more scenic.
I didn't do this (below) by the way. It was already broken when I got there.

Mind the dog!

There is a dog in the office today...
Alex has brought his large brown mutt Reg with him, and Reg is sleeping peacefully.
Someone raised the health and safety question until it was pointed out that the only person who has fallen over the sleeping dog so far is Alex.....twice.
And he ran over Reg's ear with the castor of his chair.

Space Beacon Earth

The band were on good form tonight, rehearsing four songs including one in waltz-time that they absolutely nailed.
I stood up at the end and said: "Gentlemen, that is a tune..."
After that brief stint as informed critic I went back to my normal role as timekeeper and drum roadie.

Gobblers Knob

The quiz at the Inn on the Quay went well, with more than £150 raised for Macmillan.
Controversy reared its head when the Marldon contingent won, having defied the rule about having no more than six on the team.
There were seven of them, bang to rights, but an unseemly row was avoided when they graciously handed their prize money back for the charity.
The Caerphilly Kid and I took care of the questions. Mrs H kept score.
There was no danger of over-imbibing with only Flowers IPA on offer. If ever a beer actively discouraged a hearty session, it's Flowers IPA.
The numbers were a bit down, though, with Elmer and his wife out hob-nobbing, Fangio and her husband living it up in Manchester, and Nanna going down with a last-minute migraine after the excitement of the rugby, which meant I had to expunge all the flatulence jokes from the questions.
Shame.
Gobblers Knob, by the way, was part of Question One. It's where Punxatawney Phil makes his appearance on Groundhog Day, and if you knew it was in Pennsylvania, you got two points.