The TT 2011

It is always a very great pleasure for me to go to the TT, and this year was no exception.  Some good people let me stay in their hospitality caravan in the paddock area (as long as I prepared the breakfasts and did the washing up) and so I got to meet up with many old family friends - people like Murray Walker, who was a great friend of my Grandfather, Edgar, and little Charlie Williams who I remember as a fresh-faced young boy.

It was great to see some of the new riders too - Cal Crutchlow and that nice American boy, Nicholas Hayden. But, even though he can be a bit coarse and vulgar, my special favourite was Guy Martin.  I did so want to see him win a TT, but he was unlucky again.  Of course, last year he suffered such a bad crash, and perhaps it is his nonchalant bravery that appeals to me - it reminds me of my Grandfather's bravery when he too crashed, remounted and finished with such badly burned feet, only to then be disqualified.

Good luck Guy (but do try not to use so many rude words).

A well aimed sock.

I travelled to Oxford recently for a meeting of my women's group - neither, alas, on my motorcycle nor in 1st Class.  I don't mind travelling with ordinary people but three things annoy me:  people who put their shopping bags on the seat and stop someone else sitting down, people who put their grubby feet on the seat in front - so horrible - and people who use mobile phones, and feel they have to shout.

At Reading, a red-faced individual got on - my Mama would have described him as the 'cad type', belonging to an era of Prince of Wales check suits and correspondent shoes - and immediately started to use his phone. What everyone then received was a blow-by-blow account of his client's internet programme, and quite a lot of loose language.

Around me, people started to become fidgety, and some began to say "Shush!" in an urgent way.  The man took no notice until, behind me, an elderly man bellowed like a Sergeant-Major "Put a sock in it, man!"

What a miracle!  The offender was heard to say "I've got to go - I'm talking too loud!" and immediately shut up. The carriage descended into peace.

I say "Hurrah!"

Do young women have to say 'get'?

From a strict mother and a good school, I learned two things: always say 'please' and never say 'get'.  Today, whilst lunching in a very acceptable London café, two apparently well-educated young women seated themselves at the end of my table. When the waitress arrived to take their order, one asked her, "Can I get the ham salad?" and the other said, "Can I get the salami panini?"   A few moments later, one of the two looked at me, pointed at the condiments, and asked, "Can I get the salt and pepper?"   What happened to, "A ham salad, please" and "Please pass the salt and pepper"?   I hope our new, beloved HRH Princess Catherine will lead the way in raising standards.  I am sure her Grandmother would be shocked if she suddenly asked, "Can I get the Crown?"


And to finish, here is a picture of my niece's pussy.