Slack Jawed Babbling

The last week or so has been a culinary roller coaster. If this had been a food diary for a school homework project, I would be bringing home a letter to my parents suggesting gastric bands and strict five-a-day regimes. We celebrated Mrs A’s birthday with my Dad and Bruv in Pickering. The White Swan in the Market Place is far and away the best place to eat in the town. Indeed it may be the only decent place. For a pretty enough market town on the edge of the Moors hosting the terminus to one of the most popular heritage steam railways in the country, Pickering can seem remarkably unambitious. Shops close early and don’t open on tourist Sundays; most of the pubs are trapped in a patterned carpet 80’s time warp and the restaurants are left behind by more inspiring eateries in nearby towns and country pubs. But the White Swan always comes up trumps. Tasteful décor, unpretentious service and fabulous food.  Little Bruv’s seared pigeon breast looked amazing, deep brown an

A couple of people have kindly asked if it is possible to get hold of physical copies of my photos anywhere. So after looking round at various options, I've uploaded a few albums to a Photobox gallery  here . And whilst we are on the subject, Mug Punting - Short Tales About Long Odds, a book of racing stories from the early days that inspired this blog, is now available in paperback through Lulu.com. Info page  here . The kindle version is available from the Amazon store - click the book cover in the right hand panel. Free to borrow for Amazon Prime customers. OK, advert over.

Easter has provided a welcome break between Cheltenham and Aintree this year. A timely religious Festival to temper the experiences of one equine Festival before the start of another. Once again, Granny played the Easter Bunny for a family gathering that involved a giant egg hunt in the back garden. This year the chocolate prizes were both hidden and retrieved in record time, spurred on by a biting easterly and steel grey skies. Not like a few years ago when my niece found one of her Easter offerings in July, tucked down the back of the hedge, still wrapped in its yellow tissue paper. The hunt is, of course, colour co-ordinated. Uncle Chris gets always gets blue paper because he supports Chelsea.We have sometimes holidayed with Auntie Sue over Easter. However, an egg hunt in 25 degree heat offers an altogether different challenge to its British counterpart.  One needs to be speedy and focused if a messy, liquefied celebration of chocolate is to be avoided. Sue supports Chelsea