Worlds best pork pie

His Lordship and Mon Frere Jumeau have been wrestling for superiority in the kitchen for some days now. Day one found them both chomping on huge pigs trotters for breakfast. The jelly from the bones was carefully funelled into the Pork Pie which was announced overall winner when the final votes were cast, followed closely by walnut creams in second place. For once television was all but abandoned and games were played with competitive zeal. 2b's beautiful French girlfriend sat bewildered as a carefully constructed pie of flour was sliced with precision on the floor. Afterwards she pushed 2b's face into the collapsed mess as he tried to dig out the cherry that had sat on top. She beamed delightedly as we all roared our approval.

Today though it was time for a change of scenery and a long brisk walk was just the ticket. "No need for a map" I had scoffed. After about half an hour of stunning scenery and huffing and puffing in the hot sun I had my doubts about the direction even though the snow tipped Pyrenees were keeping my guests occupied to notice any doubts I was harbouring. I flagged down an elderly man in a white van. "I am lost" I announced. "What 'ave you lost" he enquired pleasantly. "My village" I replied. He looked puzzled. After a few moments though his face registered comprehension. He shrugged and waved his arms in the general direction of the hills, smiled pleasantly and drove away. "Great bloody French" stormed Mon Frere Jumeau and for a few moments the peace of France profond was shattered. We eventually made it back though feeling refreshed and jubilant.

Waiting at the front of the house in the sun was His Lordship, table laid up outside for lunch with a chilled bottle of rose and the remains of the Pork Pie.