The craft show at Kingston Lacy, stately home.

Today the sun shone, the birds sang and so it seemed like a good day to tramp around a rather posh field and try not to spend too much money at a craft show.

The posh field is the grounds of Kingston Lacy, which is near Wimborne in Dorset.

Here it is- rather nice, eh? Unfortunately, that's as close as they would let me get. Probably worried about the family silver.

My buddy Irene and I go to this fair almost every year and always come away with bags and bags of 'stuff' that we hadn't realised we couldn't live without before we saw it all here. This year though, we were, I think quite restrained.

All I bought (sound very virtuous, don't I?) was a book (The Return, by Victoria Hislop) which I've wanted since it was published (her previous book, The Island, was a great read) and this new book is set in Spain, a place I love. So. Gotta have it. And - a luscious lump of oozing , unctious Somerset Brie. I might have resisted but they were handing out samples. End of subject.

Irene bought a lovely grassy type plant for her garden, some special soap for gardeners (apparently it's really good for removing 'garden grime', whatever that is- I'll die in ignorance) and was doing well until- the Jewellery Stand.

There it was. The necklace she'd been looking for: one-of-a-kind, handmade, unusual materials- Soft, muted tones of brown mixed with solid silver- it looked really stunning on her. And as you will have rightly concluded, having heard the details-it was really, really expensive. What a dilemna.

Me, I would have caved in within about 5 minutes of getting my grubby paws on such a thing of beauty. If people were made like the old sticks of rock, I would have the words 'I want it!' all the way through me in pink candy writing. But Irene is made of sterner stuff. There was much searching of souls, and then wallets, as Irene fought with her conscience. And in the end- she walked away. See, that's why she's my hero.

But before you send in all the telegrams of praise and congratulations, let me just say this about that; the show doesn't close 'til Monday night.

And as a good friend of mine liked to say 'It ain't over, til the fat lady sings...'

Here's some photos of the show!

And here's us, Irene and myself ( after reading about the cheese incident I think you can tell which one is me).