I was invited to the brilliant gastro-pub, The Wellington Arms,  in deepest darkest Basingstoke a couple of nights ago by a bon viveur of a client. Sadly, as I’m not the most well organised person, I’d left it too late in the day to plunder my own cellar (housed here rather than home, as the temptation […]

Just in case you’re suffering from ‘harvest hangover’ (sorry, too much vineyard footage) and if you’re wondering what the gentle folk of Alba get up to on a Saturday afternoon, in the absence of football, eastenders or the Gold Cup….here’s three minutes of thrilling action: