The debonair Basil Marigold's

Slightly tongue in cheek title but I had to pass on the most bizarre example of my life as a 'civic dignitary'. It was another plain day in Theakerville, my ego was feeling good. When a letter dropped through my letterbox, addressed to me. Wow, this one smells posh, thought I. And swiftly tore open said letter. Well, blow my little, now rather large ego down, It was letterheaded, Who's Who Publications. Telling little old me that I am to be mentioned in the 2009 Young Business leaders Edition of Whos who of Britains business elite and giving me until the 22nd Dec to amend my entry! Me! My entry! into the world of Glamour and fashion, well I might exagerate the last two. I thought I had arrived and so did my ego, which now filled both downstairs rooms, and purred like a kitten have its ears rubbed. No more, Tesco and Sekonda for me, I thought. Next stop fortnum and masons for lunchtime snacks and then straight down to get the omega seamaster, to befit a man of such renown. I

The joy is that, regardless, the woman in question will naturally become larger. My wife is, so much so that we had to buy some maternity jeans, off ebay, about a £5, a real bargain. Sadly though, or not depending on your view, they also fit me. Sadly they are still a tad short in leg length. Though I do feel a little like a pirate.

But, the following headline Irish Republic recalls all pork just brings to mind, from the politican within, the good old days when Ambassador were the only things recalled, from anywhere. I now have this mental image of packs of Irish Piggies packing up sticks, putting and apple in a bag and heading back to the nearest ports and getting passage home to Dublin, arriving in some Vietnamesque public shame. I know, this is how my mind work, and yes, I know they are called Psychiatrists, but really, have you seen how much they charge?!

...They float there, within their floatation containment pods (Pasta sauces to those who do not do, Sci-fi). They float there, teasing me and all the while they are soaking up the pickling vinegar and becoming more flavoursome by the hour. But I am more patient, I can wait too and I will eat every single one of them for the way in which they mock, knowing I cannot tocuh them for a few weeks! I did have a sniff of the vinegar before I poured it in, and 5 minutes later I finally came back around. I am not sure if I have created a vinegar or a new strain of chemcial weapon, I guess if I get a phonecall from Porton down.

I created my brine today and the onions are now in soak, as I type. I decided to try a more modest beginning for my pickling and a slightly more radical type as an addition. So I have two types of pickling vinegar out the back, outside getting cold. The first is a malt vinegar with pickling spices, with a little added chilli powder, to add that oomph, hopefully. The second, I experimented by using a cider Vinegar, and added to this the pickling spices. It is a lot lighter than the malt vinegar. Tomorrow I can remove the onions from the brine and settle them into the pickling jars and then leave them for a fortnight and see how they have come out. All I can say at present is, Vinegar really does stink when it's being boiled!

Bed, Theaker, Bed...Writing job applications while talking to friends on facebook at 2 in the morning, is not good. Especially as one is in new zealand and is 12 hours ahead so he's as fresh as a daisy and we're catching up on 10years of life!

I never had to tolerate this crazy white stuff living in Devon, where if it got to 10 degrees we gritted the roads. Though it is still gorgeous to look at from behind a window. Makes me feel all victorian, for some reason I have come to associate winter snow with the victorians, I think Dickens 'Christmas Carol' has an awful lot to answer for. The temptation to lean out of the window and shout at a young urchin for a turkey was almost unbearable. Though, in Kirkby the repsonse may not have been repeatable, once they had grasped what a Turkey, perhaps was. I think I may have more success if I was to tell them to bring me back 'the finest donor kebab you can find, young urchin, with plenty of chilli sauce and put some gravy on it' (a truly northern delicacy, gravy on everything, probably even cereal I imagine, if they were allowed). And yes, the midlands is the north. And as my old friend from Devon, now NZ says. 'anything north of Exeter is up north, and also there b