All noise but no fragrance

This week my political canvassing activities have stepped up a gear and, having experienced a mass-canvas in Waterlooville (where a dozen or more clipboard people assemble at a given point and doorstep an entire neighbourhood), I am now allowed to go flying solo. Me and my clipboard are given designated streets to canvas without the backup of the more experienced old timers.

As I go from door to door I seem to be gathering a whole gallery full of English peculiars. The worrying sign outside one house that reads 'Forget about the dog, BEWARE OF THE OWNER'; la dame en deshabille; the howling of assorted birds and animals when the doorbell is rung; a curious old lady who, when I asked how she was likely to vote, told me that she would vote for the party with the highest morals and which was closest to Jesus: "You know who I mean!" she said, fixing me with an ice-cold stare. I nodded sagely and marked her as "Undecided".

The odd thing about canvassing is how affable people are when you go knocking on their doors on dark, rainy evenings. Certainly there are some who simply refuse to answer. You know that they are there, you can see the glow of a television, the car still warm in the driveway, but no-one answers my call. But most households do respond and, even if they have different political views, they listen politely to my rumblings and appear to pay polite attention. I'm sure that, as an angry old door-slammer, I have something to learn from this. Next time someone knocks at my house I'll pay a lot of attention and even give the canvasser marks for style, content and artistic impression.

All this aside, I noted in today's newspaper the story about the prisoner in a Swedish jail who uses flatulence as a means of protesting about his prison sentence. When reprimanded about his unsavoury habit, he replied that it was "all noise but no fragrance". A bit like politics I suppose.

Doorstepping

'A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.' - Oscar Wilde

My family are troubled by my latest eccentricity. With a general election nearly on us I went out canvassing in the pouring rain on Saturday. I have decided that for once in my life it would be interesting (if not fun) to see Britain's political process at close hand, and to meet the great British electorate face-to-face.

Pity then the inhabitants of Horndean, once a staging post on the London to Portsmouth road and for many years home of Gales Brewery (now owned by Fullers). The peace of many residents' Saturday morning was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a dripping wet, huffing and puffing, and distinctly rumbling Nappa on their doorstep. In the space of three hours I bored and annoyed builders and schoolteachers, a policeman, many rather fragile old ladies, a huge alsatian dog (who successfully resisted my attemps to put a "Sorry to have missed you..." card through his letterbox), a lady trying to redecorate her house, people trying to go out shopping, gentlefolk in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, some very talkative people and some rather cross people - "I'm voting Green and that's that..." they opined, shutting the door rather firmly. I was even asked if I was a Jehovah's Witness.

Mysteriously, although I have been adopted as a canvasser by one of the major parties, I steadfastly refuse to pay a subscription and become a member of their party. I'm there to win the election, not to bake cakes and sell raffle tickets.

I'm out again next Saturday. But then I'll take waterproof clothing, galoshes, an umbrella, shin pads and (possibly) a cricketer's box.

Umami

As everyone knows 'umami' is a pleasant taste imparted by glutamate, a type of amino acid, and ribonucleotides which is sometimes referred to as the fifth taste. To be a bit less specific the first four basic tastes are bitterness, saltiness, sourness and sweetness. The fifth can more generally be described as savouriness and savouriness is definitely what Rumbling Nappas like (in much the same way as Tiggers like Hunny).

Thus the the announcement of 'Taste No 5 Umami' - a new wonder food which comes in a toothpaste tube at £2.95 from Waitrose - caused me not inconsiderable interest. I wasn't alone. With a clever build-up in the national newspapers prior to the product launch the Waitrose shelves were emptied the moment stocks arrived and for several weeks I hankered after this exotic and scientifically proven substance.

The paste describes itself as a 'flavour bomb'. You simply rub or spread the stuff on raw meat, poultry, fish, roasts or vegetables to season before cooking. Chuck it into stir-fries, risottos, pasta, soups, stews, burgers, panini etc., etc., etc. I'm not sure if it wouldn't work equally well as a shampoo or hair gel the way the marketing verbage goes on and on.

Anyway eventually we tracked down a couple of tubes and the main ingredients sound right up my street: anchovies, porcini mushrooms, parmesan cheese, olives, garlic and so on. Mmmm, great. The first tube however disappeared into Mrs Rumbling Nappa's stir fry, alongside a pint of soy sauce, some chilli, black bean sauce and a couple of dozen other ingredients. The result was delicious, certainly, but it didn't have a viagra-like effect on my senses. Indeed, if truth be told, the stir fry was much like others without the magic ingredient.

The second tube has been used more sparingly. I've rubbed the stuff into steaks and it is just about identifiable. I can't help thinking though that I've been caught by a bit of a marketing scam. Maybe if I mixed a big pot of the ingredients together and sold it as 'The Rumbling Nappa's Magic Paste' I could make a few pounds from the enterprise. Maybe I'll do just that.

A New Story

We weren't the only people to go to Cheltenham last Tuesday. Some 200,000 racegoers attend the Festival each year and most of them seemed to be there to see 'Binocular', ridden by A P McCoy, win the Champion Hurdle. And most of the racegoers (Rumbling Nappa excepted) seem to have had money on 'Binocular' - an excellent excuse for another round of Guinness, or Black Velvet, or Winter Pimms ( the Number 3 version which is brandy-based and which is best served with warmed apple juice).

The Irish are fervent supporters of Cheltenham. Indeed you could be forgiven for thinking that you are Punchestown Races in County Kildare rather than enjoying a sunny but breezy afternoon in the Gloucestershire countryside. Jovial, red-faced Paddy's and Seamus's throng the Guinness enclosure smartly turned out in green tweed suits with Elgin checks. They wear stylish trilby hats and (notably) very smart shoes, winklepickers even. An Irish band plays to the crowd and, from above, you can spot behind the main bar an enormous pantechnicon lorry from which barrels of the black stuff are being more or less continuously unloaded.

Official figures suggest that over £500 million is wagered over the four days of the festival and, judging by the exuberant Irish, a good proportion of that must be in euros. There is a competitiveness surrounding the number of Irish winners (against English horses), and huge cheers greet every winner from across the Irish Sea. The cheer was slightly muted however when in the Glenfarclas Handicap Chase Michael Hourigan's 'A New Story' from Lisaleen Co. Limerick won at 25-1. This cross country race had been dominated in recent years by trainer Enda Bolger who was saddling five horses for this year's event including the hot favourite 'Garde Champetre', winner of the race for the previous two years. Irish money was very much with Mr Bolger's horses, and very few had bet on 'A New Story'. However in a remarkable turn of fortune the Rumbling Nappa had managed to identify that the "hoss" had a chance and was rewarded by a generous payout on the Tote.