In the bar the talk is all of Ruttie, the Rutland Water Monster – everyone claims to have seen her recently. I would put this down to an excess of Smithson & Greaves Northern Bitter if it were not for the fact that I saw her myself the other day when I fled Meadowcrof and the Chief’s first “jam session”. She was close to the shore – rather closer than usual – and I remember idly wondering if she might scare the lions off.Eventually conversation turns to other subjects – England’s failure in the World Cup, the fortunes of this new coalition government and whether it might be possible to farm psychic octopi on Rutland Water (“Why not ask them?” I suggest) – and then it is time for the quiz. I have set a particularly sporting set of questions on Liberal by-election candidates of the 1970s and a good time is had by all. By the time the contest is over, the lovely Hazel Grove had called “last orders” and, after a chorus of “The Land”, it is time to have myself driven home.
Earlier this week
Richard Dimbleby's penis gourd
Was there something special about the sporting characteristics of Liberal by-election candidates of the 1970s? Wasn't that the time of Norman Scott's dog? (A story broken by the West Somerset Free Press, a journal whose professionalism I hold in very high regard after their careful reporting of a family tragedy in that same era.)
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