Liberating Pickles

When we go a-visiting Anne always packs a selection of her preserves as presents - whether people want them or not. I usually have a moan before we leave home along the lines of: "No, you can't take that, it's the last jar of beetroot chutney, that's not on, take them one of the bloody jars of orange marmalade."

So this week, on a visit to a friend, having handed over my last jar of something smechlich, I do a spot-search of the kitchen and what do I find? A half-eaten jar of last year's beetroot chutney, and a jar of chilli and coriander jam from the year before that. UNOPENED.

Friends, these poor orphans came back to Shifnal with us. Rescue-chutneys re-homed somewhere they'll be appreciated. I did this with a heavy heart and as a last resort. Pour encourager les autres. Heed the call. Use it or lose it. 

An excerpt from One Dog and His Man, out now in paperback.

One man takes the Northern Line from Tooting to Shropshire, where It seems to be mainly 1954 and raining. Enter Bobby, a rescue dog. The question is can Bobby rescue our stranded man?

"There is wisdom here and wit, intelligence and perspicacious observation; all delivered in warm, self deprecating writing."
(KD, Bristol)

"The part of the dog is played with verve and gusto"
(Bobby, Shropshire)

"I thought we told you to bugger off back to London."
(TE, Shropshire)

Buy it here.

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