Strictly clog dancing

I am now a fully fledged stick-wielding, bell-clad, clog-wearing, velvet waistcoated morris dancer after months of practising. I must thank the patience of my teachers at the scout hut for that. Huzzah and pip-pip.

The King of the cleaver

In order to enjoy and live life to its very boundaries, one must surround oneself with masters in their field. A gentleman's arm must be adorned by the finest example of female pulchritude, his frame bedecked by the most talented clothier and his feet shod by cobblers of exemplary panache. Mr Roy Porter, my Master Butcher, is one such gifted artisan who lends his craft to my humble existence. His cutlets are a phenomenon to behold and his sweetmeats are the talk of Chatburn and beyond. I salute you Mr Porter, long may your bacon slicer rotate.

Blackpool, I never loved you

Hmmm, Blackpool. Once home of kiss-me-kwik adorned headgear and drunken ginger gangs. Incredibly, this place has managed to slide, like a discarded '99', even further into the gutter.

Peaky blinders

With only 4 practice sessions under me sash, I was tentatively released into the public arena. And thankfully emerged safely and with most of me limbs still attached. The lads were great.

By Jingo sir, it's The Dandy Pickle

They seek him here, they seek him there. He is unlikely to be located in Leicester Square. But mark my words, fellow followers of the epicurean arts, he has arrived. My latest adventure will be revealed to the world soon. Hang on to your pantaloons.

I'm a clogger not a blogger

Just been lent my first clogs for my Morris dancing debut in October. Don't worry, if I take to it, I will be having a pair hand made, hand tooled and festooned with an abundance of bell. You've got to start somewhere though and these modest fellas will do the trick while I learn the ropes/steps.

A load of bullocks

I'm reminded every morning when I look out of my window about how much I hate living in the city, and in particular, the suburbs. As soon as I could, I moved to the hills. I know I'm very lucky. Bullocks courtesy of  Farmer Dave Lowcock.