Red Hot Dorset Peppers

I was standing on the pavement next to a Franciscan monk, watching the cars slip past on the eastern trunk road out of Dorchester. My gloved hand held one of two poles of a four foot wide banner, the other being supported by a woman in her forties who works for the town council's social services. The November sun hung low and bright across from us, its glare magnified by the windscreens of the car dealership opposite. Behind us was a petrol station owned by Shell, a company who has taken out an injunction against Greenpeace making it unlawful for any of their supporters to step onto a Shell forecourt. This included us, as we had gathered this morning under the auspices of Greenpeace to conduct a vigil for the 'Arctic 30', detained in Russia for daring to disrupt Gazprom's drilling operations in the Arctic Ocean. Check out the photos and videos here.

Perhaps because of the fine weather, a larger crowd than expected had turned out. Thirty-three of us lined the road on both sides, cheerily waving as passing drivers tooted their support. At least I assume it was support. 

The monk gave an impassioned speech direct to camera, telling whoever would listen that the Arctic 30 were being prayed for by name each day. I had actually met Brother Hugh previously as he belongs to a nearby Anglican Franciscan friary known as Hilfield which has close links with Pilsdon; last year he joined our cricket team for a couple of matches. Apparently he had been hoping to be arrested at today's vigil in empathy for the Greenpeace crew in Russia, but sadly we were all far too law-abiding. 

Coincidentally I was heading on to Hilfield Friary myself after the vigil to catch up with my friends Adam and Teresa who are volunteers there. They are both ex-Pilsdonites, in fact Adam was the warden when I arrived in the spring of 2012. It must be the only route out of Pilsdon for wardens, as the previous warden, Jonathan, also lives at Hilfield. I half-expected to open a cupboard door and find the skeletons of Pilsdon's three other wardens neatly stacked. 

I had been to Hilfield just once before to drop someone off in the early morning and stayed for breakfast, but found it impossible to introduce myself to anyone as they have a rule forbidding speech at breakfast-time. This would generally suit me fine as I prefer to limit my early-morning communication to a grunt or two, but on that occasion it didn't really help.  This visit was far more convivial, as we were allowed to chat over our lunch of jacket potatoes and re-constituted egg custard and Adam treated me to a tour around the 24-acre property, nestled as it is in a peaceful wooded valley. He is looking to become a university chaplain and would make a very good one, so let me know if you hear of any such vacancies and I'll pass it on.

The day ended more with a bang than a whimper as I went out on the tiles of Bridport to celebrate Mary's 30^th birthday in the traditional British manner - drinks and a curry. There's always one who insists on choosing the hottest dish on the menu, and as he was sat across from me I had the amusement of watching him struggle and sweat through his food whilst enjoying my sizzling tandoori chicken. His curry was packed full of a local Dorset pepper called Naga which apparently has won the accolade of being the hottest chilli in the world. So if you ever visit Dorset on holiday and fancy an Indian one night, consider yourself warned!

(Oh yes and I've been making some crab apple jelly as you can see from the pics)

28lb of crab apples, a smaller variety than the ones on my land

The jelly came out darker than previous batches but still tasty