Welcome once again to the increasingly loopy world of The Chilli Hobbit, a planet that just seems to let more loonies in by the day.
So what’s occurring, I hear you ask in a bad Welsh accent? Well, first and foremost comes another nail in the coffin of my attempts to pretend to be young and vibrant – my eldest Harriet is to become a Mum again, giving me a second grandchild somewhen in December. I’m not old, I’m not old, I’m not old…
It’s really lovely actually, and myself, Pink Chilli Hobbit and Aunt Jemima are all really delighted – and as you can see from the photo little Gracie is looking forward to being a big sister!
This is an auspicious week for all of us Kevins. For those of you that don’t know, June 3rd is St Kevin’s Day. No, I’m not making this up. Here’s the opening lines from a song about him:
In Glendalough there lived an auld saint,
renowned for his learning and piety,
his manners were curious and quaint
and he looked upon girls with disparity
It seems that our Kev was a bit of an ascetic (which I always thought had something to do with vinegar), but it means that he abstained from ‘worldly pleasures’. At one point is he is reputed to have drowned a woman who tried to seduce him, which seems a tad harsh. He lived his life fasting and praying, so as you can see there’s not a great deal of similarity apart from the name…although an absence of worldly pleasures is regrettably familiar 😡
It’s been a funny old weekend on the chilli front. I was at Temple Quay Market on Thursday, and as I know very well from my days working there for IBM, half-term week is very quiet and this was reflected in the sales. Friday was spent in Lechlade Garden Centre for their Friday Food Fayre. This was only the second one to be held this year, the first one at the end of April being held in rain so heavy it was what Sir Terry Pratchett would have called ‘an upright sea with slots in it’. Again it was very quiet, but the relentlessly chirpy and helpful Laura who runs the event has pulled a bit of a flanker by getting us a new spot right outside the front door of the Garden Centre next month, so we’ll give it another go before passing judgement.
Saturday was spent…wait for it…not working. I spotted that there was likely to be an outbreak of 5th Saturday Syndrome a while back…the upshot of which is that there aren’t many regular markets running that day. My usual ‘last Saturday of the month’ market is Royal Wootton Basset, but in fact that runs on the 4th Saturday, which is of course most often the last Saturday as well – but not in May. So the calendar had a blank day in it, and I didn’t look too hard for a 
replacement event as I thought it would be nice to support my old cricket team (Potterne 4th XI) and go and do a spot of umpiring. As it happens I was elevated to the starting XI, and took my place as number 11 batsman (1 run scored, run out by a furlong on the last ball of the innings by an overenthusiastic whippersnapper trying to steal a bye to the keeper. He’s a third of my age. He made it. I didn’t try. I know my limits). I was, however, asked to turn my trusty arm over to deliver the usual slow-to-dribbly annoying induckers, which I was more than happy to do. Six overs, an awful lot of creaking, a fair bit of swearing and two wickets later I proclaimed ‘job done’. In fact I took the last two wickets of the innings in consecutive deliveries, so I will be on a hat-trick the next time I bowl. That could be in 2015…possibly the longest hat-trick attempt in the clubs history. I’ll keep you updated on the outcome 🙂
Sunday it was back to the stall, in Frome’s lovely Independent Market. I’m constantly impressed by how superbly the town transforms itself into a delightful place to bimble about in – attendance is always good, and even though this month was pretty quiet for me sales-wise, it’s still nice to see so many people out and about. The market coincided with the Frome Steampunk Extravaganza, where there’s always a photo opportunity or two…
The highlight of the weekend was yours truly being soundly, comprehensively and rather noisily upstaged by the extremely precocious Charlotte, who, fresh from a successful career on the cake stall opposite took it upon herself to take over my pitch and try to sell chilli sauce. She’s not backward in coming forward, I can tell you that, there’s definitely a hint of costermonger in the bloodline somewhere. It was actually really nice to see someone having a bit of fun, she picked up the patter with remarkable ease and will definitely have a career in sales, I’m sure of that! If you ever meet her in later life keep your hands on your wallet – she’ll have every last note out of it 🙂
So last week was a biggie for the Farm, Jamie being at the Royal Bath & West Show. I get my turn at a monster show this week, I’ll be off to the Royal Cornwall Show with my glamorous assistant the Pink Chili Hobbit (am I allowed to say that, now that we’re not together? Oh well, just have 🙂 ). Visitor numbers should be up in the billions, and frankly I’m more than a little nervous, so if you see me there please be nice. I’ll try not to make a berk out of myself, especially if the stall gets a visit from royalty…though it might be funny to get the Countess of Wessex to try God Slayer just to see what happens. I’ve never been to the Tower of London, I hear the dungeons are just lovely this time of year…
My usual spots in Temple Quay, Tidworth and Devizes will all be covered this week so fear not people, you can still get your fix. We’ll also be out and about in Bexley Heath, Clapham Common, Shaftesbury, Oxford, Swindon, Bath, Chippenham and Ogbourne Downs. No rest for the wicked, apparently.
That just about wraps it up for today, I’ll leave you with the rather surprised looking lady on the right, spotted in Frome on Sunday. I’m not sure what she was laughing at, but I did have my trousers on at the time so it can’t be that.
Hugs and happiness ’til we meet again post-Kernow.
Truth, Justice, Freedom, Reasonably-Priced Love and a Hard-Boiled Egg!
On the subject of creakiness I can confirm that I’m not cut out for a career at the front line of horticulture. I spent last Wednesday at the Farm helping with planting and other such deeply green-fingered activities, and even though it only a half days’ effort on my part I can safely say that I have not ached so much in a very long time. Despite being closer to the ground than most (a fact pointed out by Jamie before he was threatened with a broom-shaped enema) the mere act of repeatedly bending down to insert green things into brown stuff led to me later uttering the full range of old man noises…on getting up out of the chair…sitting down on the chair…getting into the car…out of the car…in fact, pretty much any movement at all. Kudos to the regular heavy lifters at the farm, Simon and Aaron, not sure how they do it. My late Dad, who often despaired of my total ineptitude in a gardening environment, must have been looking down on me from above, chuckling quietly to himself.
Normal people would, of course, have added just a chilli or two – maybe as many as ‘a few’ to the vodka. Not our Jamie, heavens no, nothing so half-hearted. Now far be it from me to suggest that Jamie is on a mission to inflict real pain on the inhabitants of our sceptered isle, but I tasted the results – just the tiniest amount, barely enough to call it a tasting really – and damn near passed out on the spot. I’m glad I didn’t try a proper shot of it or I strongly suspect my insides would have become my outsides, and at some considerable speed. Quite, quite extraordinary, and not a little combustible. Probably the hottest thing I have ever tasted.
unday saw a first for me at Frome’s Independent Market. Now I’m not sure what I expected having never been before, but it a lot bigger than I’d anticipated and consequently was very, very busy. Having mastered the slope I did a brisk trade all day, and am looking forward to returning next month.
The Chilli Hobbit 