pigsandderision

more Istanbul

2010-07-07T16:24:00.001+01:00

More Blue Mosque, the Spice (Egyptian) Bazaar and an awesome flat overlooking the Grand Bazaar public toilets

Istanbul photos

2010-07-07T16:15:00.003+01:00

Mosque puss is a cat that lives at the Blue Mosque, lounging around the marbled courtyard all day. The weather was fiercely cold in December and he clung to me like lap fungus, searching for a place to toast his furry buns.

And in the morning

2010-03-10T12:17:00.002Z

Bright green and smelling nicely of ferns

Last one of the day

2010-03-09T16:03:00.001Z

So green and full of leafy life now. Wonder what it will be like when I get back in to the office tomorrow?...

Blogging the resurrection (5)

2010-03-09T12:50:00.001Z

Things seem to be slowing down now but it's very green and I get the impression its central leaf ball is waiting to bloom.

Blogging the resurrection (4)

2010-03-09T11:39:00.004Z

You can actually start to see how parts of the same leaf are both green and brown in stripes (left), and how the whole plant is now more green than brown.

Blogging the resurrection( 3)

2010-03-09T11:10:00.001Z

Starting to look quite bushy now and really stink of forest floors. You can also just about see from crappy pictures how the half with longer roots (that are deeper in the water) is more alive than the half sticking upwards.

Blogging the resurrection (2)

2010-03-09T11:04:00.001Z

So here at about one hour and ten it outgrows its bowl and I put it onto a plate to spread out. All of a sudden it starts to look like the thing on the packet a bit more and you can really see the green coming back into its leaves.

Blogging the resurrection (plant)

2010-03-09T10:56:00.002Z

The resurrection plant is a desert moss that survives in very dry conditions by contracting in a dry ball and letting itself be blown by the wind until it gets carried to water. You can dry them out and rehydrate them infinitely as far as I can tell and they just don't die.

Here's it's progress from dry, coconut-looking twig ball to fully-fledged fern.

First four pictures, taken over an hour until you can see its first cheeky tendril unfurling.

Pickering War Weekend photos

2009-10-29T10:43:00.004Z

Predictably, I was there for work but I did get to stay in Robin Hood's Bay afterwards, which is always good.

Devon foodie trip – Drogo Castle

2009-10-29T10:21:00.003Z

I'll be honest, I'm just copying and pasting the feature about Drogo I've written for the magazine here:

When I was little, I used to ask mum why all the castles we visited were broken, that is, ruined. She said it was because they were very old and confirmed my fears that one day, Britain would run out of castles because they would all crumble away.

Fortunately, self-made millionaire and tea magnate Julius Drewe solved this problem in the early 1900s by erecting a mighty pile of granite – Castle Drogo – on his ancestral land in Dartmoor, which overlooks Teign Gorge (the pretty place you can see pictured at the top).

Employing the foremost architect of his age, Sir Edwin Lutyens, Drewe created what the National Trust calls ‘an impressive family home’. I would say it’s more of a millionaire’s playground.

Picture the scene: you’ve made your fortune, you’re an average lad-done-good, no pretentions to a noble background so what do you spend your money on? A whacking great castle where you, your family and all your equally nouveau-riche chums can play at being Medieval lords. There’s even a bit of Latin above the ornamental portcullis and a book in the library called the ‘ABC of Heraldry’.

Inside the castle walls is a veritable theme park of toys and posh tat – a billiard table the size of my house, tables studded with glittering Venetian glassware, distinctly magic-looking golden mirrors, ornamental cherubs nestling plumply in gothic archways and a study full of leather armchairs for brandy evenings with Carruthers.

Drewe’s 82-room home boasts exquisite collections of tapestries, ivory trinkets and chinoiserie, all displayed with the comparative subtlety of, say, Liberace’s jacket collection. It’s fantastic – all the drama and romance of a Medieval palace with none of the drafts, drips, dungeons or plague.

Modern touches such as electric candles masquerading as the dripping wax variety and a carpark where a moat should surely be make the castle all the more liveable and heighten your sense that you might be at some sort of themed hotel. It’s also set a lofty 300 metres up in Dartmoor National Park, soaring over the wuthering heights of the gorge and valleys – Disney would be green with envy.

Drogo is in Drewsteignton, nr Exeter, Devon. Call 01647 433306 or visit nationaltrust.org.uk for more information.

Trip to Devon for foodie review – Pebblebed Wines

2009-10-29T10:10:00.003Z

When Pebblebed vineyard’s owner Geoff Bowen used to camp in southern France, he would watch the sun set over the grape vines, see the local farmer trundle through the fields on an ancient tractor and envy the tiny, tucked-away bars where locals would get drunk, eat cheese and be generally Gallic deep into the long summer nights. So he fell in love with a lifestyle.

The reality of running his 22 acres of vines in Devon, producing anything from 800 to 100,000 bottles of wine a year is somewhat less idyllic but Geoff’s determined to live the dream.

As much a community venture as anything, Geoff’s business now extends to an informal French-style tasting cellar for nights of tapas, homemade pizza and glasses of wine. The venue, which sits below the Bowen’s gorgeous holiday cottage (we stayed for the night, I was massively jealous. The shower was a work of art and the views over the River Exe were grand , also hosts Italian-themed nights, live music and

Geoff said: “A French person in Bordeaux drinks Bordeaux, ditto Burgundy… I would like that to be the case here in Devon too.”

The wines themselves are a rose, a white and a sparkling rose. All are crisp, uncomplicated and with a good balance of acidity and dryness – soft summer fruits and lemon zest on the nose but not too much fuss on the palate. The rose was as nice a drop of pink wine as I’ve had for many years and I was surprised.

Geoff says: “Twenty years ago nobody had heard of New Zealand wines, now they’re world famous. I think with the right investment and attitude from a new generation of growers, the UK’s wines could follow that path too.”

Originally trained as a geologist, Geoff picked the location because of its place on the Triassic Budleigh Salterton pebble beds – hence the name. He’s also got a keen interest in matters of the earth in his approach to the wine-making business.

“I despair of the UK’s half-arsed approach to environmental issues,” he groaned. “I looked into recycling the bottles but it means they would get driven to Scotland, then to Spain and pop back up again in France for me to buy at 32p each and ship back to England, having been chemically treated and factory processed at each point along the way. What's environmentally sustainable about that?”

Now, if this business was on my home turf I would vomit at the twee, middle-class, pretentious, community-loving, derivative feel to this nonsense. However, because Geoff was a lovely man with a lovely dog, he got us tipsy and fed us local cheese and because his property was gorgeous, I liked it all a lot.

Trip to Devon for foodie review – Darts Farm

2009-10-29T09:54:00.004Z

At the magazine, we do a section called 'Eat Local' where one of us trundles off to visit a regional food producer. I've done Cheddar (cheese) Whitby (fish & chips, although I don't eat fish) and Sussex (wine).

This time, I was packed off to Devon by the South West 'Celebration of Food' PR people to be fed Topsham wine, Darts Farm restaurant stuff, visit Castle Drogo and stay in a tipi.

Where I live, local produce is a trendy hobby for Guardian readers faking the bucolic idyll. There are swarms of people with sheepdog names (Barney, Livvy, Rosie etc) with their little wicker baskets and pashminas buying artisan bread at £2 a loaf and fakey vintage door handles for their fakey farmhouse kitchens. I'm not sure if it's sweet or sickening.

Either way, it's an even bigger and more lucrative deal down in Devon.

Darts owner Michael (Dart) is of the opinion that “Supermarkets are ruthless machines. They run small producers into bankruptcy, they drop long-standing suppliers if a cheaper fad comes along and they suck the life out of communities.”

Michael is also proud of the relationship his shop has built with customers over the thirty-odd years it’s taken to turn it from an over-the-back-fence turnip outlet into a stonking great 'country lifestyle' mall. Barry the butcher left Darts after 14 years and more than 300 customers turned up to his party to wish him goodbye, possibly pursuing a portion of free sausage. The farm’s cupcake maker teaches local children how to bake and decorate cakes, while the jam-maker, Doris, is 86 and has worked at Darts for 36 years.

The fishmonger, Jason, teased me with a squid and Nick Pring, Darts’ on-site cider maker, showed me round the 70-year-old hydraulic apple press he uses. He grinned while I spluttered over a thimble full of 30% proof parsnip wine, which was less nasty than it sounds.

Elsewhere at Darts, you can buy super-posh country farmhouse kitchens and bathrooms, Aga ovens, Kath Kidson stuff, plants, home and garden tat; you can pat pigs join the RSPB for a bird-watching walk and go for a physiotherapy session or pilates lessons.

Another strange event for work

2009-08-17T16:01:00.005+01:00

This time it was the FICC, an international camping event which attracted tent-loving tourists from as far afield as Taiwan, Korea and Turkey. As you can see though, most of the participants were British and proud but we can let them off: When they were young, it was OK to stand up and wave a little flag when a brass band played Jerusalem.

The evening ended in a police station with me having my DNA swabbed, but that's an entirely different story.

The latest mandrake pic

2009-08-17T11:38:00.002+01:00

Its leaves having been entirely scoffed by something, I decided to dig my big mandrake up and see what its root had been up to for the past few months. I made sure I had my earphones in (Brian Eno's This, if you're interested) just in case, and weedled it out with a spoon. The tap root was about another 10cm long in addition to the body, but I thought he'd gotten nice and twisty. Propped upright, it looks like it has its legs crossed and a weird little stumpy arm across its chest.

My enormous rant

2009-08-05T13:24:00.003+01:00

I'm pissed off today. This is why:

Parent-only parking spaces
Each to their own I guess but I really think that when you breed, you increase pressure on the world’s resources, add to an overpopulated planet and double your carbon footprint. I’ve made the considered decision not to reproduce and as such, I’m supposed to park half a mile away from Tesco and trudge through the rain with my heavy organic potatoes. I also have to pay as much tax people whose children use schools, swarm all over public parks, get childcare benefits and spend their formative years tapping the NHS for vaccines or plaster casts when they snap their fragile wittle bones falling off swings the council paid for with MY bloody dollar.

While we're on the subject, how come parents get to come and go at work however they like? My mate's cat needs feeding in the evening, does that mean she gets to leave early? I don't have any school plays to attend, but I wouldn't mind getting back by 5.30 every evening to watch Neighbours if we're handing out free passes to mediocre cultural engagement.

The Guild of British Molecatchers
Why would anyone make a living out of killing something so cute just because it spoils some posh bastard’s lawn?

People who make conversation through the cubicle door when they’re having a piss
Because all I can picture is them having a piss. Especially awkward if it’s a senior member of staff trying to hold a conversation with me while they’re trumpeting away on the John with their managerial pants round their ankles.

Public outrage when soldiers get injured
When they were being taught how to fire guns at civilian-shaped sandbags, perform violent interrogation and treat 80% facial chemical burns, did they not have a teeny inkling their job wasn’t going to be about bathing the elderly or plasticine modelling?

I realised a while ago that being in the army gives you a greater likelihood of being blown up by a landmine, perishing in the fiery shell of a plummeting Blackhawk, being shot by inhospitable tribal warlords or spending large amounts of time in a conflict zone than, say, working in a Little Chef. As such, from a long list of potential career options, I didn’t choose the army.
Now I can only blame my own neglectful route-planning if I end up in the foothills of South Waziristan being sniped at by Baitullah Mehsud’s henchmen.

Latest trip to Whitby

2009-07-23T13:03:00.002+01:00

The nobbly sandstone stuff is one of the graves in St Hilda's churchyard, I guess the sea air doesn't do the graves much good.

I liked the way the seagull was stood on captain Cook's head, posing for the tourists. I expect he thought they were all there to see him.

VW camper van weekend

2009-07-06T15:03:00.002+01:00

This is Kermit the 1972 Westfalia (type 2). We were supposed to take him to the Monarchy festival at Ragley Hall (we'd even been given VIP tickets, dagnammit)but it got cancelled so we took him to Shropshire instead.

I'll post the feature when it's written. Thanks to Advantage West Midlands for sorting out an ace weekend for us – I've never seen Johno so excited, except when he has a Whopper and fries.

Eagle

2009-05-27T12:12:00.003+01:00

Check out the mighty bird...

...that would be me.

But what I'm holding is a young golden eagle called Princess. She weighed a tonne and had at least a hundred claws, all of which could have popped my skull like a ripe blueberry. However, she was also clever and mellow and let me stroke her eagley tummy feathers.

Mandrakes

2009-04-28T09:11:00.004+01:00

Having been lovingly germinated from seeds – seeds that had to be treated with peroxide, love and warmth – grown for the first year and died, had their roots kept in a paper bag in a kitchen drawer over winter then sprouted forth again like a glorious, poisonous onion in a larder, my mandrake is now being eaten by aphids.

It also smells weird and that weedy little dark green leaf behind the behemoth is its retarded, refuses-to-develop brother. They really are odd plants.

Veg

2009-04-27T11:25:00.006+01:00

Courgette and red onion monster I made in the kitchen.

If I could only install a living room pyrotechnics rig and a special FX studio in the downstairs bog, I'd be on my way to making a teeny tiny vegan Mothra film (maybe).

Maybe the Vegetarian Society would sponsor it? Or Hugh Hairy-Whittingface could star?

Chocolate beat me

2009-04-27T08:54:00.006+01:00

Look – how stupid are Milka? They think I can't open a bar of chocolate without instructions. I mean, it's not even a particularly challenging way to open the packet; you just pull the edges apart like you do with every other chocolate bar on the planet. You don't even need a pin code or a swipe card to get in.

GOD. They must have paid a designer for the extra hour or so needed to come up with the graphic, a product development person to establish that a diagram was needed lest millions of confused and treat-deprived customers plunge into a sugar-starved rage AND added a small amount to the print cost for the extra coloured inks.

However, despite their best efforts, I pulled too hard on the sides when I was opening it, hit myself in the face, slipped backwards and banged my coccyx on the door handle. Junk food is bad for your health.

Look at the magnolia tree in my garden

2009-04-08T09:00:00.004+01:00

Showing off my mussels

2009-04-03T12:06:00.003+01:00

David Bellamy has written me a piece about conserving seashore molluscs (such as winkles, razorshells and so on) for my magazine this month.

I’ve given it the headline ‘seashells sanctuary’.

Am high-fiving myself like a motherbitch right now

(except none of our readers will have heard of The Cult)

More of the forest photos

2009-02-16T11:10:00.002Z

A real-live pond skater; the only animal I saw all day

Deep in the dark, dark forest

Forest thing

2009-02-16T11:09:00.004Z

I think I approached the whole forest business with a black cloud over my head, which is a shame because I’m normally as arboreally inclined as any decent Robin Hood wannabe. Firstly, I was pissed at the ridiculously over-sized Ford Mondeo I'd been given to test drive (but that's a different story) and get to Pickering for eleven o’clock in the morning; although it proved pretty quick in a straight line once I got out of a two-hour stand-still on the M1. Second, it was a phenomenal feat of mis-management from every possible angle – I was being sent to write, essentially, a marketing piece about a man-made plot of land, on the North York Moors, in January and I wasn’t allowed to use the words ‘cold’, ‘wet’, ‘foreboding’ or ‘don’t bother.’ My ranger guide chap had been bullied into taking me round on his day off – in between taking his kids to nursery and putting cheese on sticks for his six-year-old’s birthday party that very afternoon – and although he bore it all with genuinely cheerful professionalism, the toddler he brought with him for the walk looked cold and grouchy as his buggy negotiated puddles, potholes and molehills. Understandably.

Still, here’s what we ended up with, plus a few of the photos. It’s cheesy but then, that’s what we do here.

If you go down to the woods today…
A forest on the North Yorkshire moors in January – that’s going to bleak, lifeless and drab, right?

Wrong. You just have to know where to look to find it’s teaming with life under every log and up every tree. Or you have to have the assistance of an expert – that’s where forest ranger Russ Varley comes in.

Russ is one of the Forestry Commission’s many rangers, who lead walks through the woodlands all year round, day and night. They also maintain and protect the land surrounding Forest Holidays camping and cabin sites such as Keldy in Cropton Forest, North Yorkshire where I went for a guided tour.

“Winter is the time of year nature takes a big deep breath, ready to explode into life in spring,” explains Russ as we set off.

“Generally, animals display the most interesting behaviour when food or sex is concerned. At this time of year, birds and mammals are competing for food and preparing for the mating season so they’re at their busiest.”

He’s right – close your eyes for a second and you can hear a symphony of birdsong and rustling in the trees as squirrels, woodpeckers, garden birds and goodness knows what else stake their claims to the forest’s frugal winter pickings of berries and seeds. The bonus is that Russ can identify most of them.

“Hear that ‘twitter tweet phweeeeep’ sound? That’s that lovely little robin over there” he explains happily, flapping his arms about and chirruping for me.

Russ isn’t just a bird man though. Thanks to his degree in wildlife and countryside care, plus ongoing studies in environmental conservation, he can tell you about Keldy’s meadow flowers, hares, deer, trees, bogs, fungi, moss, and anything else that creeps, grows, grazes or scuttles around his patch of forest – quite a career change for a former IT drone.

“We humans are an outdoor animal that needs occasional shelter,” Russ explains. “We’re not designed to sit at a desk in front of a computer all day and I wanted a change of scene. My wife also works for the Commission – she’s a forest craftsperson, she gets to hack things up with chainsaws – and she encouraged me to develop my liking of the outdoors and wildlife into a career. Of course I love it; I meet interesting people and am constantly discovering things – whether it’s coming across a tiny red deer fawn hidden in the meadow grass in spring, or developing a new theme for my walks.”

One of the most popular recent additions to Russ’s walk programme is a ‘poo walk’ – apparently you can tell a lot about what’s been through the area by what it leaves behind. He shows me a tree stump littered with rabbit droppings, indicating that a community of ‘hedge bunnies’ – so-named by Mrs Beeton because they live among tree roots and shrubs rather than in warrens – have established the log as a look-out post, where they take it turns to keep watch for stoats and mink while the others graze.

“Stoats also climb trees – see that squirrel’s nest,” says Russ, lending me his binoculars and pointing to the top of an 80-foot pine. “You can sometimes see a stoat climbing up to see if any squirrel kittens are in there. And if a stoat manages to catch a rabbit, it makes the most awful screeching noise – terrifying if you’re alone in the forest at night.”

If the forest at night appeals, you don’t have to go it alone though: Russ also does dusk watch and night vision walks where visitors can watch the area come alive with bats, badgers, foxes, deer and owls. For visitors at Keldy’s Forest Holidays cabins, this is one of the few night-time activities that doesn’t require a drive as the site is well off the beaten track.

“Our resident tawny owl is a real highlight of the tour, especially when she has chicks in the nesting box,” says Russ, gesturing to a little wooden owl house on the edge of the forest. “When they get to fledging time, they obviously get a bit boisterous and want to spread their wings so she sits patiently outside on the perch and watches the world go by while they squabble.”

That’s one of the many joys of roaming the forest with somebody who knows it – he can explain why the animals you see are behaving the way they are because he sees them all year round. Russ spends hours in the badger hide observing their behaviour (May to August is a good time to watch badgers fight and flirt apparently), he sees what the forest is like on rainy days, snowy days and in sunshine, and he recognises most of the different sounds around him.

“One day, I’d like to complete the degree in wildlife management and move more towards maintaining the balance between the animals and the forest, which is surprisingly delicate – too many deer browsing plant shoots and the new growth suffers, for example. That has a knock-on effect on everything smaller.”

Because, of course, the forest may be one of the most natural seeming places in the world to visit but its survival and maintenance hinges on the manmade skill and care of enthusiasts like Russ who can teach visitors to tread carefully and understand what’s going on around them.

Priory Mill visit

2009-01-22T13:33:00.004Z

Restoring what was once a prosperous watermill on the banks of the river Honddu in the Brecon Beacons National Park are Noel and Susie Gaskell. They’re not alone in their quest to preserve historic livelihoods in this part of the world – up the road you can buy fuel from a traditional charcoal maker, in the village you can buy fish caught by the last two coracle fishermen in Wales and nearby there’s a butcher with his own, small-scale abattoir round the back of the shop.

The mill was first recorded in 1651 – although its name suggests an affiliation with the ninth century Priory in whose shadow it once stood – and the Gaskells moved in about eight years ago from their city home in London. Unlike the other nine mills once found on the same stretch of river, Priory fell into the hands of a family who wanted it restored to its former glory, rather than converted into houses. Noel is a talented carpenter and uses historically accurate, mostly reclaimed materials to painstakingly undertake the restoration project from his workshop overlooking the driveway – he’ll spot you approaching before you spot him sanding, sawing and varnishing the enormous oak beams that will become flooring for various dilapidated grain stores, drying chambers and kiln rooms. His aim is to get it working again and share it with local schools, his guests and anyone else who cares to have a guided tour.

Noel says: “When the former owner of the miller’s house died, he took a lot of knowledge with him. We’re still friends with his wife, Queenie, who lives up the road, and we get information from the Welsh Mills Society and the mills section of the Society for Protection of Ancient Buildings but it’s still an enormous project with many things to learn – Susie and I consider ourselves historians these days. In the future, I’d like to excavate and resurrect the millpond and rebuild the pigsties with a view to having some rare-breed sheep too. Susie wants to grow vegetables and fruit as we did in London, but we also have to find time to work and run the campsite so the tasks will outlive us I’m sure.”

The river itself is a site of Special Scientific Interest, home to otters, bullhead fish, English crayfish, spawning salmon and kingfishers. Back on terra firma, the mill building is a nesting site for swallows and rare lesser horseshoe bats, as well as the odd chicken.

“One of our chickens – a completely black, rare-breed hen we brought with us from London – had a habit of roosting on the shelves in the outside toilet block, which used to be lit by candles. One of our visitors went in at night and reached out for what he thought was his wife’s handbag, which promptly started squawking in his face,” remembered Noel.

Amsterdam 3

2009-01-05T12:01:00.004Z

This was an exhibition at the Tropenmuseum, all about Vodou in Haiti - genuinely ace. The figures you can see in the poster are Bizango, Vodou warriors who battle against the evil oppressors and dictators under the cover of night because they're not allowed to practise their religion openly in the day. And do you know why not? Bloody American Evangelists, that's why not. Grrr.

Amsterdam 2

2009-01-05T12:00:00.002Z

Y'aarrrh! Why buy a house when ye can buy a houseboat?

Amsterdam 1

2009-01-05T11:59:00.005Z

Balls bar; a fine place to drink, play pool and listen to Iron Maiden among the Dutch. The rest are just pretty pictures of winter, canals, ice, and bikes – all things that characterised my new year in Hamsterdam.

Piglet Squid

2008-12-19T16:41:00.004Z

Piglet Squid are my new favourite things

Yurty weekend 2

2008-12-18T10:37:00.007Z

Yurty weekend 1

2008-12-18T10:36:00.004Z

Whitby pics 3

2008-12-17T15:20:00.005Z

Reminded me of the Nabootique 'shaman in session' sign

Monorail seagulls

The seagull nicked that boy's chip

View from the top, looks better if you've read Dracula

Whitby pics 2

2008-12-17T15:19:00.004Z

Hair braiding stall doll

She was on the phone, the boy in the football top was paddling, the daytrippers were on the pretty boat, the seagull was circling, I was taking photos - everyone enjoys the beach their own way.

A boat called Freya

This guy had the most awful singing voice but he was a really flamboyant showman. He will do well come Whitby folk week

I met this baby gull

Whitby pics 1

2008-12-17T15:12:00.005Z

Windswept nun watching the boats come in

Round shop selling inflatables, good view of the sea foam breaking by the wall on stormier days

Chips

Goth crafts and pink t-shirts

Spotty donk

They shouldn't sit by a cafe called teas and tarts if they can't handle the implications

Oh, but there's more

2008-12-14T15:16:00.003Z

4. That Blistex advert with the smug, disembodied lips yabbering away about balm ingredients would be bearable if she didn't finish by dribbling the 'this, the only science lesson you've ever paid attention to' line. Right, correct - women don't know what science is because there's clothes and boys and Grazia for them instead. I myself didn't have to go to science at school because I was busy counting perfume bottles and brushing kittens. Then at university, I wasn't interested in all those geophysics or forensic archaeology modules my parents paid through the arse for because there were BOYS around. Thank goodness I've got tits, I'll never have to wire a plug.

5. The new Max Factor - or is it Bourjois? I don't care that much - advert has a typo. They paid Linda Evangelista, Eva Longoria and that Spanish sort how many bloody millions to swish their hair and bat their eyelashes for 10 seconds each but they can't afford a proof-reader to tell them that 'enhanced in post poduction' is missing an 'r'. The fact that the eyelashes they show are digitally-enhanced and not the ones you'll get by wearing their mascara is an issue in itself but I'm not going there.

Adverts piss me off

2008-11-18T09:00:00.004Z

1. The Stella Artois advert currently doing the rounds – the one that’s cashing-in on the James Bond thing – is confused. “This stunning 40-second TV commercial shot in the colourful style of 1960s’ French cinema is an amusing tale of misplaced jealousy set on the sun-drenched Riviera” says Stella. The stuff is a Belgian beer, brewed in Magor (South Wales), Samlesbury (Preston) and Wellpark (Glasgow) by a company called InBev, and is drunk exclusively by people from Manchester and Coventry. So what’s with the doe-eyed, beret-wearing French chicks and fakey Neopolitan streets hung with billowing laundry? Is that what it’s like in Moss Side at the moment then; an unspecified but stylishly sun-kissed Gallic Riviera with endless pool parties and firm hair? Still not drinking the filthy slop even if it is claiming to have completed the single most effective urban regeneration project of the 21st century.

2. ‘The UK number one_____ [fill in blank] product’ has been coming up a lot really and I can’t believe people can still get away with it. What does it mean? If they meant ‘the best at its job’ or ‘best selling’ or ‘most popular’ they’d say so, right? But no, it’s meaningless. It’s part of the same school of thought that publicises ‘75% of women would recommend the product to a friend*’ (*based on a sample of 16 people who work for the company). I would recommend copping off with strangers at rock concerts, thieving stationery from the office and eating half a kilogram of Stilton in one sitting to a friend, doesn’t mean they’re good ideas.

3. If you catch sight of a glamorous woman sniffing her finger outside the jeweller’s shop, she’s not being a dirty cow – she’s being intoxicated by the scent of white diamonds. Oh no, she’s not is she? Because diamonds don’t have a smell and nor do amethysts or rubies. So what’s Bold on about on its 2in1 Infusions adverts? Do you suppose they’re referring to the alluring fragrance of a defunct and crumbling Koidu diamond mine? Or the sweat of a thousand Sierra Leonese labourers toiling amid civil war and poverty to furnish the digits of the Western rich with spangly gems? If that’s what the ‘kind of woman who loves to be seduced’ wants to smell of, it’s no wonder she spends her evenings rolling around in piles of washing at cheap hotels, like a big grubby Labrador that’s found a pile of sick to play with.

I hate you, Gok Wan

2008-11-07T12:31:00.002Z

“Miss Naked Beauty is the definitive hunt for a woman who embodies the confidence, sex appeal, spirit, brains and true natural beauty of a modern-day Eve,” reckons Channel4.

I’m sorry but Eve? Did I miss the passage in just about every western holy book ever where the first (arguably second) woman peddled her jubblies round the block for the viewing pleasure of England of a Tuesday evening. And HOW can Channel4 call the Miss Naked Beauty contest a beauty ‘revolution’? Revolution implies the smashing of systems, the down-tools-ing of the enslaved – heads rolling and the muted masses seizing ownership of poisonous political systems. I expect to hear the gun metal of PT-76s cracking in the icy wind that howls down the Volga. I want candlelit meetings in sweaty bunkers and the dismantling of capitalist machinery, oiled for too long with the blood of the workers. A bevy of PAs, media interns and retail assistants sporadically getting their babylons out just doesn’t swing it.

The drivel continues on Channel4’s website: “ B Never Too Busy To Be Beautiful is offering one lucky viewer the chance to win a complete natural makeup overhaul with head make-up artist, Charlotte Matheson. Charlotte is Miss Naked Beauty's make-up expert and will be on hand to teach you how to achieve the perfect au natural look.”

Forgive me but ‘using make-up to achieve a natural look’? Do I need to explain why that one is beyond retarded and actually stepping in to the realms of deliberate, contrived idiocy? And yes, I am too busy ‘to be beautiful’, if by ‘beautiful’ you mean ‘care more about which over-priced, bullshit unguents to slop around for 25 minutes every morning than de-icing my car, eating my Cocoa Pops and catching a cheeky extra ten minutes of kip.’

Surely a revolution will be when beauty contests and makeover programmes for neurotic women no longer have an audience, and when the cosmetics giants cease to turn over multiple-billion profits every year. When obsessively-manicured nails – bought with call centre wages and ill-advised bank credit – stop clawing at every desperate, undignified chance to become the next rags-to-riches tale of found fame. And Gok Wan will be at least fourth against the wall when it comes.

Duffy

2008-11-05T16:43:00.002Z

Not the honey-toned Welsh hotty but Patrick ‘from Dallas’ Duffy, that’s who.

I met him at the press launch of the Caravan Club’s ‘eco-friendly’ Airstream and easily recognised him from his photo in the dictionary, next to the word ‘slick’. He agreed it would be more eco-friendly to travel by bike and stay in a B&B or tent than transport a large American caravan halfway around the world for the sake of publicity, but I was mostly just interested in his extra-tight face.

The bloat Activia couldn't help

2008-11-04T16:20:00.003Z

Somewhere, lurking in the swamps of darkest Florida, escaped Burmese pythons are patiently waiting to slither past you in the night, their purposeful, weighty slither causing leaves to rustle softly, punctuating the menacing chuckle of the native hillbillies. Or exploding as they chomp down baby alligators.

I think ‘explode’ is a bit sensationalist – what this poor, greedy, binge-eating python probably experienced was more a slow tearing from the inside out. You have to wonder how long the alligator struggled for as well, I mean they can hold their breath under water for a long time, right? Either way it got me worrying about my hamster’s pouching habits; I’ve seen whole pieces of baby sweetcorn disappear into his chubby little cheeks.

French man gets arm trapped down toilet

2008-10-31T10:56:00.002Z

Oui oui

Trousers

2008-10-23T15:24:00.002+01:00

‘How to wear this season’s trousers’
was the magazine headline I read in the doctor’s waiting room this morning. It wasn’t a special medical publication for post-op hip patients or amputees, just an article in Harpers Bazaar. Really? Are their readers that stupid they need help wearing their trousers? I left the house with quiche down my top and by the time I arrived at the office also had a little dribble of blood down my arm from a jab at said appointment, plus some cappuccino on my face, but at least I know my trousers.

Wild beasts magazine feature

2008-10-10T15:49:00.004+01:00

In my day job, I write about British tourism and the trend for pretty much everything right now seems to be local, homegrown and full of folksy indigenous character – whether it’s whittling holidays in Kentish yurts, TV shows about beardy nettle-chomping contests in Dorset or environmentally-sustainable newt-basting lessons in Chipping Sodbury (so that one I made up).

However, the country’s ecosystem seems to have missed the memo on this trend and is busy getting more hospitable to non-native species than ever before. It’s as if the land is giving up its island identity willingly, too fatigued by our increasingly toasty climate to fight any more. Long-standing campaigns about grey squirrels duffing up our native reds and the Queen’s swans getting happy-slapped by escaped mink now pale in comparison to headlines about lions in Belfast and poisonous jellyfish (slowly) menacing swimmers on the south west coast. Brilliant. Bring it on, I say.

Fact is, an increasing number of Johnny Foreigners from the animal world are nestling comfortably up to the ever-more temperate bosom of the British Isles – from native species re-introduced following extinction, to downright strangers colonising after escape or release from captivity. Ok, I get that they sometimes threaten the native bluebells and all that, but I think it’s about time we started using this stuff to jazz up our tourist offering. In fact, I can see it now – ‘England: come for castles, stay for the feral leopards’. However, until visitengland.com catches on, here are some personal tips on what you might see if you’re skulking around the right bushes at the right time.

The south of England seems to offer the most hospitable climate for visiting fauna to set up home, and an intriguing addition is the European scorpion. They’re a bit scuttley for my liking but, fortunately, shy too – preferring sheltered spots away from human disturbance. At a mere five centimetres or so long, they can easily nestle in wall cracks and under rocks so remain impervious to the odd frost come December. Despite originating in Mediterranean Europe the scorpions seem to be doing rather nicely in thriving colonies at Ongar, Sheerness and Portsmouth.

One such nipper – affectionately nicknamed Cynthia – surprised a Mrs Helen McNair of Wiltshire by wandering calmly into her kitchen back in 2005, making BBC local news headlines.

Vicki Brown from the Wiltshire and Swindon Biological Records Centre, which collected Cynthia from the McNair’s house all those years ago, told me: “Scorpions are usually nocturnal and like to be left alone so it was odd for Cynthia to be so bold. Fortunately, the family were keen amateur entomologists so knew they’d found something a bit special and not to squash her. She was collected and lived with us for a couple of years while we took her around local schools to show children some of the consequences of global warming – warmer climates mean exotic species can survive in Britain. We’d love to hear about any more unusual wildlife sightings in the area via our website (wsbrc.org.uk) but wild scorpions should never be handled because their tail contains a nasty sting – being in our climate hasn’t changed this.”

On the subject of stinging additions to the UK’s ecosystem, you’ll be pleased to learn that the freshwater jellyfish Craspedacusta sowerbii is, as a wise geek once said, ‘mostly harmless’. Good news if you’re dipping your toes in lakes and still water anywhere in Britain from Telford to Doncaster – all sites these unusual little invertebrates, natives of the river Amazon, have been found.

Colin Howes from Doncaster museum’s environmental records service explains: “The Hatfield Water Park is, by a gnat's whisker, the species’ most northerly British site known today but these tiny transparent creatures, which feed on microscopic pond-life and range in size from a 5p to a 20p piece, may be more widespread than we thought. We believe they are sometimes brought into the country on imported water plants – they were first spotted in a tank with giant Amazon water lilies at Regents Park in the 1880s – but seem to have trouble surviving our winters when their ponds get iced-over. Evidently they are more active at night and generally lay quietly out of sight in deeper water during the day so they’re not often seen but if any readers come across some jellies I would be pleased to hear the details.”

If you’re lurking among the undergrowth and hedgerows of southern England looking for the, now common, dog-sized muntjac deer, Japanese sika deer or Chinese water deer, note that sightings of red-necked wallabies are also increasingly common, especially in Norfolk and Suffolk. I saw plenty of these small cute marsupials when I was visiting their native continent down under, and they seemed to be most common grazing around roadsides at dusk, much like rabbits do in the UK. As such, I conclude that hanging around by the side of the road of a summer’s evening, dressed as vegetation, will increase your chances of seeing one. If it helps, their diet over here mainly consists of grass, heather, low-growing shrubs and bracken, and sightings are increasingly common around Surrey.

But, while you’re patiently sat at the woodland’s edge, keep an ear cocked for the sound of snuffling (or the rumbling stomachs of hungry cartoon Gauls) because wild boar are massively on the increase. Hunted to extinction in Britain some 300 years ago these large, shy porkers are now living in many parts of the country – especially Devon, the New Forest and Kent – having escaped from breeding farms. They like to grunt around roadsides, fields and forest floors searching for roots and low shoots and are often unpopular with farmers because they can damage turf and crops on agricultural land when food is scarce in their woodland habitat. Martin Goulding is the founder of (www.britishwildboar.org) and has worked with DEFRA as an advisor on wild boar for many years.

He says: “Boar are very shy and in Europe they coexist with forest visitors and ramblers without incident. However, as with all animals they are unpredictable – visitors to the Forest of Dean, which has a large boar population, are advised not to feed them in case they become urbanized, and to always keep dogs on leads because boar and dogs will fight. In their favour, wild boar dig up turf in woodlands allowing flower seeds to take root, which then attract insects and other wildlife, but they can make a mess of farmland so they’re a bit of a contentious species despite being native to Britain.”

Less shy are the 30,000 or so ring-necked parakeets, estimated to be living in colonies over the south east of Britain. And their numbers are growing – the RSPB’s Big Garden Birdwatch 2006, listed the ring-necked parakeet as the 15th most-sighted species, spotted in all 33 London Boroughs and up from 19th place the year before. Although the RSPB is deeply coy about the species – it’s torn between helping all its feathered friends and dealing with the ones that scoff our Cockney sparrows’ winter supplies – a spokeswoman told me these small, noisy, bright green parrots are most easily spotted on the Surrey stretch of the Thames, including Chertsey and Staines to Walton and Esher. But how are these cute little parrots, natives of Asia, managing to get along in our damp and dismal climate – why haven’t they climbed back into the cages they’ve escaped from where it’s nice and warm with fresh newspaper to read every day?

Said un-named RSPB spokeswoman told me: “Ring-necked parakeets are mostly vegetarian in their natural habitat but here in Britain they’ll eat pretty much anything they find – fruit, berries, insects, nuts, seeds and pet food from people’s gardens, plus agricultural crops, household scraps and even meat. There are a lot of nice gardens in that part of the country and it’s generally thought they couldn’t survive the British winter if humans stopped supplying food for them so they’re likely to remain urban birds. You never know though, especially if the climate is going to warm up significantly.”

And finally, there’s my favourite example of the UK’s new breed of exciting, resident wildlife: the non-indigenous big cat. Rumours persist that large, wild moggies are stalking around our countryside, and sightings often make local news headlines. Most recently, police searches for a ‘sandy-coloured, large non-domestic cat’ were launched in Belfast after several members of the public spotted something prowling around Cavehill Park near the city’s zoo. The hunt was called off after zoo keepers reported all their lions accounted for, but online cryptozoology forums bared their teeth at this ‘cover up’, arguing that many big cats are sociable creatures and the beast of Belfast may have been a wild feline popping by for a sniff.

Danny Bamping is the founder and spokesman of the British Big Cats Society, in between his day job as a gaming entrepreneur and former Dragons’ Den guest (the TV show, he’s not claiming to have found fire-breathing mythical creatures in Britain just yet). He receives hundreds of reports of big cat sightings every year and, although he was harder than a Scottish puma to track down – what with his company Bedlam Puzzles to run – he eventually assured me that “Big cats could survive in our climate perfectly well; there is enough cover, food and water for them.

“About 75 percent of the sightings people report to me are big black cats; possibly large domestic or feral cats, dogs, hybrids or black panthers. Other species that are regularly seen include brown or sandy cats – which we believe are pumas or cougars – and grey cats with no tails and pointy ears. The latter are consistent with lynx, which were once indigenous to the British Isles. In my opinion, the 1976 Dangerous Wild Animals Act is the strongest reason the cats are out there – it tightened laws on keeping these animals in captivity and it wasn’t until five years later that the Countryside Act made it illegal to release any non-indigenous species into the wild in Britain.

“Other theories are that the lynx didn’t die out in Britain completely and held on in areas of Wales and Scotland (unlikely but possible) and that American airmen brought cougar cubs and bobcat (a type of lynx) over as mascots for their flight teams in World War II and left them, literally on the airstrips, when the war finished. That’s quite a cute story but doesn’t explain the black cats I hear about so often.”

After I issued a request for people’s big cat sightings, hoping at least for some decent hoax shots, two families from Harrogate got in touch with a tale from a Yorkshire camping expedition they enjoyed last spring. First they told me off for being a sceptic, but then offered the following anecdote accompanied by a photo (pictured) which made ITV news at the time:

“We were camping last May in Rosedale near Pickering when a very large cat type creature strolled across a field 300 yards in front of us. Earlier in the afternoon the kids had said they'd heard roaring but we joked that it was an escaped lion from nearby Flamingo Land and sent them back to play. The family dog – who is normally excitable but quiet – just wouldn't settle and barked and whined from the moment we arrived. As the cat ran off, the horses in the next field started stamping the ground and then bolted.”

Now that’s a tourist testimonial I’d want to read when I’m picking my holidays next year.

Another magazine feature, this time about film locations in Britain

2008-10-10T15:43:00.004+01:00

The UK is oozing sets appeal and those predatory voyeurs – location scouts from the film world – just can’t keep their moist palms off our softly dimpled countryside, vulnerable heritage sites, bawdy cities and sweetly innocent villages.

Here’s a few TV and film set locations I listed for the magazine.

GO WEST
The National Trust-run village of Lacock, near Bath, must be one of the most utterly raped locations in England when it comes to silver screen exploitation. Its foundations date back to the 13th century and the village still retains most of its original appearance and architecture; although the ‘original charm’ it claims is more open to interpretation. As such, it’s been the location for just about every major period drama filmed in the last 15 years, including Moll Flanders, Emma, and Pride and Prejudice (the good one and the one with Kiera Knightley). Harry Potter fans will recognise the interior of Lacock Abbey as parts of Hogwart’s school from all five films and, while we’re on a slightly supernatural theme, parts of the BBC’s 2000 remake of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) was filmed at Lacock too.

Head further down to Dorset and you may remember Lyme Regis’s sea wall – the Cobb – from the 1981 film The French Lieutenant’s Woman. Meryl Streep is probably not still standing around looking windswept and poetic, and Jeremy Irons is definitely not still hunting for fossils at Undercliff nature reserve, but Lyme is a very pretty town nonetheless. If all the sea air works up your appetite, you’ll be pleased to know that The River Cottage HQ and its Local Produce Store – made famous by its Channel4 TV series and through the regular writings and broadcasts of owner Hugh Fearnley-Snottingstall – is very nearby. The Store is in Axminster, and has a canteen menu if you want to snack while you shop for homeopathically-knitted nose cosies, but River Cottage HQ’s address is a closely-guarded secret until you book a table or a cooking/foraging/wassailing course.

Cornwall’s dramatic coast and unmistakable fishing villages have been popular filming locations since at least 1929, when Polperro became the setting for Alfred Hitchcock’s The Manxman. The Grade II listed Georgian harbour at Charlestown is home to Square Sail’s fleet of sailing ships, which are sporadically open to the public from Easter until October. Take a tour and you’ll be wowed with the fleet’s amazing list of swashbuckling film and TV credits from Mel Gibson’s psychotically awful Apocalypto to ITV’s Hornblower series. More recently, ITV viewers will recognise Port Isaac as home to Martin Clune’s big-eared and brusque Doc Martin, in the TV show of the same name, and Watergate Bay as the set of Echo Beach – that soap with Jason Donovan that nobody watched.

EASTERN PROMISE
Flatly ignoring London – simply because there are too many film and TV sets in England’s capital city to even begin listing – the verdant east and south-east portion of the country has more than its fair share of attractive hamlets, rolling countryside, traditional towns and coastal resorts so it’s a certified star of the silver screen. If you’re into teatime drama, you’ll be in Tena Lady heaven.

From the Buckinghamshire village of Turville – home to Dawn French’s spectacularly unfunny comedy series The Vicar of Dibley – to the hazardous and fictional county of Midsomer (made up of various locations in Wallingford, Thame and Hambledon), the South East specialises in postcard-perfect spots for film crews. Kent’s Pluckley was the setting for ITV’s early 1990’s adaptation of The Darling Buds of May (starring Catherine Zeta Jones before she married old cobweb-nads Douglas) and 2008’s series Lark Rise to Candleford was set in North Oxfordshire’s Juniper Hill, where visitors will find a blue plaque marking author Flora Thompson’s childhood house. Would-be sleuths in Oxford, and my Nan, will be delighted to discover that two-hour Inspector Morse-themed tours run on Saturdays but if you’re catering for a younger audience, Oxford’s Harry Potter credits are pretty impressive. The Bodleian Library’s Divinity School doubled as the Hogwarts hospital wing, Duke Humfrey's Library as Hogwarts library, and the dining hall at Christ Church hosted Harry’s first evening at Hogwarts, where feasting was enjoyed and the Sorting Hat introduced pupils to the inherent and unshakeable class – sorry, I mean 'house' – system.

On the bawdier side of things, various scenes from the 30-odd absolutely MINT Carry On films made between 1958 and 1978 cover ground in Brighton, Maidenhead, Slough, Windsor and Ealing but happy campers will be disappointed to know that most scenes from Carry On Camping were actually filmed at Pinewood studios. If you’re visiting Brighton, do visit the pier and beach to see where W.C. Boggs and co. went for a factory day out in Carry on at Your Convenience, and also snoop around town to various back-streets and the seafront where 1978 mod classic Quadrophenia was filmed. While I was writing this, I tried (in vain) to get some royalty-free film stills to use in the article and was over the moon to be put through to the 'Carry On office' at Pinewood studios. Peter Rogers' nice PA told me they don't generally have doors wired up to make a 'booiiing' sound every time a young lady walks in the room which was, I'll admit, a disappointment.

IT’S NOT GRIM UP NORTH
Maybe it’s the windswept moors, pretty towns or rugged coastline, but the north of England has more than its fair share of TV and film credits

One of TV’s longest-running comedy shows, Last of The Summer Wine (now in its 29th series), was predominantly filmed around the town of Holmfirth. During summer, the Summer Wine Location Tour explores many of the best-known locations in the surrounding villages and valleys including Slaithwaite, which will also look very familiar to fans of ITV’s Where the Heart is (and there must be some). While you’re in that neck of the woods – well, Dales actually – you might enjoy a visit to the market town of Thirsk, which is home to the world’s most famous vet James Herriot. Fans of the films It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet and All Creatures Great and Small (as well as the BBC TV series of the same name) should definitely pay a visit during May or June, when a week of “Herriot Happenings” takes place. I dare you to dress up as a cow and claim you have stomach ache.

Another classic Yorkshire TV gem is, of course, ITV’s Emmerdale. For 22 years this was filmed in the West Yorkshire village of Esholt and, although current filming takes place on a purpose-built outdoor set at Harewood, Esholt is still the favourite tourist attraction for fans and the village pub has kept its adopted name of The Woolpack Inn. If you like your dramas northern, you’ll also be keen to visit the village of Goathland in the North Yorkshire Moors near Whitby. It’s often better known as ‘Aidensfield’ – the 1960s setting for ITV police series Heartbeat – and many of the series’ familiar landmarks including the ‘Aidensfield Arms’ pub, garage and railway can be seen.

Visitors to Aysgarth Falls in Wensleydale might recognise the area as the setting of Robin of Loxley’s battle with Little John in the 1991 shocker Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which was also filmed at Sycamore Gap along Hadrian’s Wall, and Northumberland’s Alnwick Castle. Alnwick’s imposing 11th century fortress has an impressive list of film and TV credentials, including BBC comedy series Blackadder, the 1980s TV show Robin of Sherwood, 2005’s The Virgin Queen and two Harry Potter films, among many others.

The pretty village of Penrith in Cumbria is the setting for Withnail & I’s disastrous ‘holiday by mistake’, with Sleddale Hall in the nearby village of Shap the venue for their tumbled-down holiday home, Crow Crag. While in the county, you might pay a visit to the Lake District National Park, where, in 2006, Coniston’s Yew Tree Farm (among other locations) played host to the cast and crew of Miss Potter, Hollywood’s bastardisation on the life of local children’s author Beatrix Potter.

SCOTLAND THE BRAVE
Fans of a nice Scottish blockbuster will be disappointed to know that lots of Mel Gibson’s 1995 epic Braveheart was filmed in Ireland, however you can visit Glen Nevis where the visitor centre will point you in the direction of certain scene locations from that and Highlander 3. And who can forget Edward Woodward’s clueless cop, tricked by a community of nature-loving oddballs in the proper 1970s version of The Wicker Man? Filming took place in Plockton, Skye, Ayrshire, and Dumfries and Galloway but the climatic burning scene was actually filmed at Hoseasons holiday park in Burrowhead, Whithorn. They did wonderfully.

Monarch of the Glen was shot in multiple locations but one of the most distinctive is Ardverikie House (aka Glenbogle House in the show) which can be seen from the A86 on the opposite side of Loch Laggan. The ‘Glenbogle Estate’ – mostly located around Badenoch – was used again by Ecosse Films to shoot scenes from Mrs Brown, a portrait of Queen Victoria’s life starring Judi 'one-trick pony' Dench and Billy Connolly, released in 1997.

Although mostly set in Glasgow, STV series Taggart has been filmed in many locations around Scotland including Glen Nevis. Glasgow has also acquired cult film status through its bleak portrayal by the characters in Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting, with many of the interior scenes filmed at the disused WD & HO Wills Tobacco factory at Alexandra Parade (now City Park office complex).

TALES FROM WALES
Did you know China, Arabia, the Khyber Pass and a battlefield from the fight between four mortals and the Emperor of the Outworld are all in Wales? Thought not. But with sand dunes to rival the Sahara, miles of stunning coast and incredible mountain scenery, film and TV companies often choose Wales when cheap drama is called for.

Perhaps the most famous media export from Wales is the cult 1960s TV series The Prisoner, starring Patrick McGoohan and filmed in Italianate village Portmeirion. Architect Clough Williams Ellis' unusual creation has also been the backdrop for many other TV shows including Brideshead Revisited and the final series of ITV drama Cold Feet.

In 1997 action flick ('masterpiece' didn't get through the subbing despite my best efforts) Mortal Kombat: Annihilation – as well as Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of life – the mountains of Snowdonia proved to be the perfect setting for Hollywood stars to run around shouting at baddies. Paramount Features was refused permission to shoot Angelina Jolie’s tomb-raiding wankfest at the Great Wall of China, so they turned to Snowdonia, with Llyn Gwynant, becoming a makeshift Chinese village and Alexandra Slate quarry providing a 100ft cliff drop. Fairly reliable sources have it that Carry on up the Khyber was set on the Watkin Path, which goes up Mount Snowdon, and that many of the extras were locals, who apparently found it off-puttingly cold in their kilts.

A couple of miles from Bridgend in South Wales, you’ll find the Merthyr Mawr sand dunes, which conveniently doubled up as the set for parts of 1962 epic Lawrence of Arabia. But beware if you’re out roaming South Wales alone – kitsch horror classic American Werewolf in London obviously felt the area was creepy, using the Black Mountains as moors, and the tiny village of Crickadarn as backwater hamlet East Proctor.

THE NATIONAL TRUST
This charity gets a section to itself, partially because I work for it sometimes and partially because it has at least a hundred properties that are frequently used by film and TV companies. In the past couple of years, the Trust welcomed film crews from Jane Eyre, Hot Fuzz, Elizabeth: The Golden Age, Spooks, How we built Britain and Doctor Who. So, if you remember Mr Darcy getting wet in the pond at ‘Pemberley’ (Lyme House) in 1995, or clocked Tyntesfield as one of the sets of teen TV angst drama Skins, chances are you’ve seen a Trust property on the box recently. Here’s just a few:

Basildon Park, Berkshire: Several scenes for the 2005 film Pride & Prejudice, starring Keira Knightley
Charlecote Park, Warwickshire: The Libertine, featuring Johnny Depp having a bath in the brewhouse (mmm…)
Clivedon, Buckinghamshire: Several Carry On films, Thunderbirds (as Lady Penelope’s house in the 2003 film) and 1995 romance Carrington, with Emma Thompson
Stowe Landscape Garden: The funeral scene from Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies and the set for various London parks in 1998’s BBC version of Vanity Fair.
Hill Top, Lake District: Beatrix Potter’s farmhouse (although a nearby holiday cottage was used as a substitute in the film Miss Potter)

Showman's Waggon

2008-10-10T15:04:00.007+01:00

The interior of Nink Ellis's 1920s showman's waggon represented exactly my own home furnishing tastes, or what they would be if I had a proper home instead of the dungeon. Kitsch, smoky, dark, vaguely Romany, full of weird sideshow tat and with a lifetime's collection of baubles and trinkets twinkling in the firelight – you can see why these things were called palaces on wheels. A strong and vaguely funereal waft of fresh lilies and wood smoke thickened the air throughout my stay, but I could still see my breath hanging in the cold air when I woke up at about 2am.

Nink's real business is horses and the farm on which the waggon is sited – along with a vintage airstream, yurt, retro Vicker's and what looked like the makings of a couple of tepees – is home to 20-or-so show-trained horses, plus chickens and some bouncy dogs. Nink told me the waggon itself is an heirloom from when her family supplied circuses and travelling fairs with spotty appaloosa horses still bred at the farm, and Nink's own herd have performed at their share of jousting tournaments, on TV and at shows in their time too. Nink's party piece is a beautiful chestnut horse called Porto, who is apparently a better actor than most of Hollywood.

She said: "Animals aren't really allowed in circuses now which is fair enough. My friend Martin Lacey is one of the few lion tamers left and even he agrees animals aren't often kept properly in circuses. But then, he's used surplus game reserve animals that would have been shot otherwise so perhaps he's doing them a favour? My horses are trained with treats, not force, to perform on command things they'd do naturally, like kneel, whinny, stamp, lie down and roll over."

Everywhere I looked in the waggon, Nink had squirreled away piles of pony, Romany and show-themed treasure which – along with a wood-burning stove, fridge, electric oven and heaters, a luxurious bed and much girly decor in the boudoir – are memoirs of a time when she lived in the waggon full time.

Nink explained: " I saw the plot of land near Ellesmere and thought it would be perfect for the 60 or so horses I had at the time because it was so huge, with mature oak trees, birds, foxes, acres of countryside and mist in the morning. Where I would live was an afterthought really so it's a good job I had the waggon. I lived in it for eight years (with my three basset hounds and a terrier) while I built the house and stable. When I eventually moved in to the house it gave me the willies - it was so empty and echoing – but you have to retire and settle some time, even if your mind isn't as ready for it as your bones."

For me the waggon would be a perfect place to spend fading autumn afternoons by the log fire drinking gin and reading Angela Carter's Nights at the Circus. That night the owls hooted, the stars twinkled and I listened to the gentle scufflings of something small in the bushes outside.

Nink was a very hospitable host, recommending several nice places to eat and get tanked up in Shrewsbury, all the while idly playing with a squashed dried toad she keeps on a plant pot by her front door.

The waggon at Ellesmere is one of many offerings from Welsh company Under the Thatch, which specialises in historic vehicles and buildings for self-catering Guardian readers. Other properties include various log cabins, a Romany caravan in the Black Mountains and a converted Edwardian railway carriage on the Ceredigion Heritage Coast path.

Am I just a pussy or are people really rude these days?

2008-10-10T10:58:00.005+01:00

Is everyone you speak to in customer services really bloody rude these days or am I too sensitive? I just asked some Geordie M&S car insurance phone goon if my no claims bonus would carry over if I changed insurers in December (yes, I know but I'm new to it) and he said "well yeah obviously, that's the whole point." And that's what sparked this rant.

Going back to that Littlewoods shennanigan, how many ignorant, bad-mannered, poorly-trained social-fucking-retards did I have to plough through to find out they could do what ever they want with my personal information? They just had no clue what they were doing and no intention of finding out. I asked one of them how much the standard charge to call them on their 08457 number was and the guy didn't know, wouldn't find out and couldn't be bothered to ask someone else for me. The he tried three times to sell me two chequered single-bed duvet covers, even though I told him I have a double bed.

Just the other day at Tesco, I was mildly curt to two young cashiers who were really horrible about a lonely, slightly weird old man who wanted the time. He asked them politely for the hour – even though he obviously had nowhere to go – then passed a few casual pleasantries about his watch not working and how they (the cashiers) were working quite late for a Friday night. They stared open mouthed, one of them finally grunted "8 o'clock" at him then, while he was walking away and still within earshot, they started taking the piss and laughing at him. I said "Leave it out, he obviously just wanted someone to talk to for a bit" and then they stared at me instead. I know they're not a social drop-in centre and all that but really.

At the big Tesco in Cov, almost every day I have to stand waiting in silence while the cashiers talk to each other for a few minutes before they start beeping my stuff through the till. Usually, they don't stop their conversation to acknowledge they've got a customer and one even gave me a mean look and sighed dramatically because she had to stop gassing to her colleague for 6 seconds to tell me to put my card in the machine. Only once have I had the courage to say 'I'm really sorry to interrupt but I'm in a bit of a hurry'.

That is me being a pussy, isn't it?

Vikings in January

2008-10-09T16:43:00.006+01:00

I called the article I wrote for me mag 'a Thor and burning sensation' which I thought was genius, but it didn't get through the subbing.

Nonetheless, I'm going to do everything in my power to go to Up Helly Aa in January because there's pig-all else to do at that time of the year, right? I can see next year turning into a bit of a Scottish-odyssey actually because I want to go to the Wicker man festival, Edinburgh and the Orkneys too. I freaking love tartan.

Glocks for peace

2008-10-09T16:34:00.004+01:00

Check this out from Craftster – I wouldn't feel threatened if I was being shot by that.