I should know better

Recovering from six hours on my feet judging 159 dogs and mild food poisoning from the show catering, I now have to face writing my report.

But it was fun. It always is. All the usual suspects turned up - the ones I have been longing to put in the correct order all year. And most were quite good. There was the odd disaster that shouldn`t be seen at a dog show unless covered with a large paper bag, the puppy dog that will be well able to pull a very large cart in a month or two, the little dog that found it all too much - but on the whole a worthy turnout. The winners were pleased and I haven`t had too many knives in my back yet from the losers. (Although one of them had a lot to say afterwards about the Scots, and while I`m willing to take personal criticism, I will not accept what I take as a racist slur - if you`re reading this, you know who you are, and you need to rethink your attitudes in a hurry.)

I was happy to give Reserve awards to a lovely bitch which has been very underrated, and to a good dog on his way up.

And so a good day - despite the cold and my struggles with the stewards, whose combined ages must have hit the thousand mark, and who huddled like the three fates over the paperwork. Fred had brought "his wrong glasses" and couldn`t read the numbers, so we had constant arguments about what dog was what and which dog had really won.

I looked for a late lunch and after some argument and much waving of a pink voucher the elderly catering lady produced a fish which had obviously died some time ago and then been cremated, garnished with fried twirly..... things. Of course I knew it was a Really Bad Idea, but I hadn`t eaten for eight hours. It was followed by something called a Mammoth Muffin, in which you could just detect parts of the Mammoth best left unearthed.

A stroll round the rest of the show, a quick hunt for the stomach pills, then a good journey home in a fast comfortable car with excellent company...

To find that Solitaire has gained another two ounces.