This little piggy went to market...

It's a grey fresher day out there, but it's still a little muggy; I've just put some towels on the line for her indoors while she's out so praying it doesn't rain because I'll forget and then it's the doghouse for me.

It's been a lazy day recovering from my week's course but this morning in the warm sunshine, my youngest lad and I had a walk down to the farmer's market just underneath the Humber Bridge in their car park. I didn't want to buy anything particularly, but took a few pennies with me just in case which is just as well. There were some punnets of strawberries being sold by one farmer, a 'cancelled order' for a pound each and they looked immaculate so a bit of a bargain. I spent the money we saved on an mint choc chip ice cream.

I may as well make the most of little luxuries because when the new Government tries to implement between 25% and 40% (reported in the news yesterday) cuts in public service spending, I may well not have a job to get out of bed for.

Although the farmer's market isn't a long standing tradition round here which is surprising considering we are in the countryside, up until the foot and mouth outbreaks, cattle markets and other country village and town markets have been more common place. The Humber Bridge market isn't big by any means, but there's plenty to look at and it comes on the first Sunday of the month. Today we were entertained by what my son calls folk jazz, a quartet consisting of a couple of acoustic guitars, an electric mandolin and a flute. Their parting shot as we left was the Kinks song, 'Sunny Afternoon.'

Lazing on a sunny afternoon/In the summertime...

There were pies of all descriptions, meats, breads, honeys and jams, conserves and preserves, plants and herbs, hand made jewellery and garden ornaments, cup cakes, roast venison and red wine sandwiches, eggs by the thousand, fruit and vegetables, cheeses of every type, free parking and music to entertain the masses. What more could you ask for? A cup of tea and an ice cream. Very British.

Not very British was Nadal's Wimbledon men's final trophy win this afternoon, not the only Spanish dominance in sport at the moment, although the Spanish were very lucky to win against Paraguay in FIFAs World Cup, unlike Nadal who frankly was bloody good!

It's ages since I did a list, here are some song titles* that are likely to appeal to pensioners (use your imagination):

Hit me with your walking stick;

Staying alive;

I'm still standing (oops, spoke too soon!)

Speak up little Suzie;

These shoes were made in Dorking;

Bet you look disoriented on the dance floor;

See the blue rinse mounted on Virginia;

Stairlift to heaven;

Goodness gracious, great balls of wool;

Don't go breaking my hip;

Three steps to... (now, what did I come up here for?)

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

*Thanks to 'I'm sorry I haven't a clue'