I should know better

It was really bad. Just don`t ask.

It started on the bus. As the night progressed, the impression grew somehow that the driver wan`t an expert. It could be his amazing disegard of white lines and traffic signals. It could be his little 2am adventure in the filling station, when he got in and found himself comp;letely unable to get out

He ground his gears and jerked back and forwards, getting nowhere and demolishing any parts of the building inconsiderate enough to be sticking out. The night clerk watched in awe but din`t dare come out.

And at that point you realise you saw the film. It starred Arnie, or Vin Deisel, and it`s at that hopeless moment when the huge vehicle out of control ploughs relentlessly on towards the gas station pumps and you wait for that great big orange explosion and all the accompanying FX. You also realise that a large part of your enjoyment of that scene had to do with you not being in the huge vehicle, but in a cinema seat. You fight the impulse to take the wheel - or at least the keys. Or to get out and run. Real people don`t do these things...

But somehow we lurched out on to the road and made our erratic way south to arrive, as usual, far too early. I got the dogs out and setled them in their pen. A friend did the same and as she lifted the first out of his carrying box he gave a sigh of relief and relieved himself all over her.

He had obviously saved it up for a long time. As she wrung out her steamng, dripping clothes she remarked with feeling that this was going to be one of those days.

It was.

The judging? - don`t ask. Not only were mine the wrong colour - I just have to buy them red wigs one of these days - but not big-boned enough. The least said the better. Only Mr Lentil achieved anything.

I think the highlight of the day for the dogs was the Great Escape, when they managed to open the door of their pen, and suddenly I was chasing after three liberated little men. All with different priorities.

Florian looked for me.

Mr Lentil headed straight for the nearest crowd of dogs and people and introduced himself.

Marcus made a beeline through the packed showground, with only one thing - the usual thing - on his mind. Somewhere here was the girl for him. He was deaf to me and indignant when caught.

Probably they had the right idea. We should all have baled out long ago. As we stood in the windy car park, waiting for the bus (late) in the growing dark, I phoned my friend.

Indeed she remembered this judge. "The one who used to breed those great big red cuddies? What did you expect?"

Not much, by this stage. We loaded the dogs, and chugged out on to the road north. No confidence in the driver, hard seats, a clogged toilet and a long way home.

It could be worse.

We could have a really silly hobby, like trainspotting.