1) What's this ghastly place I've been brought to now? Can't settle. Can't find a place to rest. And they still don't know what they want to call me. As if Dougal's any better than Doodle! 
2) Ah, a nice quiet corner and a big belly to rest me bonce on. Not bad. Could be better.
3) Aha! That's the ticket. Soft cushions made even softer by one of Dunelm's finest. I might like it here. Not sure if I'm gonna like being called Huw tho', just 'cos I'm from Wales.
1) I don't believe it! The most handsome and friendly cat in the whole wide world is still here. Some people say he's 'squiffy'. Nobody wants him. The CP call him Doodle but we're not so sure. He's getting under our skin and we decide we would call him Dougal if he was ours. It rhymes and there's a nice touch of alliteration, see? No need to confuse the fella too much.
2) We call this one 'John Wyndam' on account of him having six toes on his front paws. If JW didn't write about such things, he should have done.
3) What on earth has gone on in here overnight? It's chaos. Mother is saying nowt but I think we all know it was the kittens.
4) There's only one thing for it. Somebody daft will have to get in there and muck 'em out. Kittens having a giggle, for once, in shot.
5) Oh, thank goodness, thinks Dougal, time to get some zeds. Of course, it would be a complete nightmare if a debate between these folk about whether they should rehome me were to break out whilst I'm asleep and I was to wake up somewhere else completely.
6) Oh bugger, how did that happen?!
2) It's no good moaning. If you've come to the centre of Oxford on a busy Saturday to have yer wedding photos taken yer bound to become the centre of attention. You wouldn't catch us taking a photo (oh no).
3) What did we say about folk wandering into photos?
4) Quick Vic. Take the photo before someone wanders in between us.
5) Ah, yer subtle bit of modern architecture amongst the classic olde stuff. Quite tasteful, really.
6) A rare moment when nobody is between us and the view in question.
7) Worcester College. So we simply have to take a photo. It's welcoming Canada today. Not sure why exactly.
8) It's starting to rain now so Howard takes shelter in a handy college gateway. Security Man telling him to stay behind the barrier, thankfully, just out of shot. It's nearly six o'clock and time to make our way back to the Park and Ride. Nice city, Oxford. Quite like it (which is high praise).
1) Er, excuse me. Have you got permission to roost on our window ledge?
2) Peek-a-boo!
3) Please leave me alone, I've just flown into your window and I've got a bit of a headache. Oh, OK. Take yer time (alternatively, it may simply be an 'immature'. We're not experts!).
1) Word has got 'round that Vicky has some 'stale as olde Nick' granary loaf on offer.
2) An unseemly scrum quickly develops. Ducks of all ages and sexes (we are not kidded by the males having lost their mating plumage) throw decorum to the wind and gobble it all up in minutes. Swans steadfastly refuse to drop their standards (quite right).
1) We are still very tired after our looooong day at Silverstone but, in a spirit of exploration and curiosity, we still decide to take the short drive to investigate this festival with a view to attend next year. Most of the activities took place on Friday and Saturday and so Sunday is free and gives everyone a chance to wind down after a hedonistic weekend of beer, food, and music.
2) What manner of lunacy compels festival goers to spend a weekend in these conditions? They must be young, that's all we are saying.
3) Now this is what we call a tent. You could get a whole family in that one. And their pet dogs and cats. They're probably all in there now. Sleeping off a collective stonking hangover. That sort of thing.
4) Yay! There's a four hour Lawn Mower Endurance Race as well as all the music and stuff. Things are looking up.
5) Of course, it doesn't take us long to find the beer and food tent. Now then, the last thing we need to do is attract the attention of the Food Police. Not after yesterday's shenanigans. So we choose a nice chicken stir fry. Nee-nah, nee-nah! Oh b*gg*r!
6) By the time the Happy Red Tractors take the stage most folk have gone home. We'll give 'em a listen for a bit, eh?
7) Three Happy Red Tractors playing their folky-bluegrassy mix of folky-bluegrassy stuff. Some of the audience still have the energy to dance. But not many. Staffie showing it's appreciation by piddling up the speakers, sadly, just out of shot.
8) Just time to watch a bit more lawn mower racing before heading off home. Will we buy tickets for next year? Depends who's on and whether WSBK is at Silverstone again. It might be at Brands or Donington, maybe. We shall see.
1) We've only been in the paddock for five minutes and Howard has already nailed his colours to the mast. He's read MCN and they've convinced him Max Biaggi is gonna win on the Aprilia. It's a fast circuit and he's got a fast 'bike but there's more to it than that. Has Howard made a terrible mistake? We urge caution, but he's not for turning.
2) Both James Toseland and Vicky have got their pre-Final Qualifying Session faces on. There's tension in the air. It's palpable. You can cut it with a knife. Gulp.
3) Bradley Smith does well to smile through the inane interrogations of some olde chap re 'whatcha gonna ride next season' whilst his 'younger brother' wanders past. Bradley's going to go into Moto2, hopefully. 'That's the plan', he says. You read it here first folks (unless you've already read it in MCN, that is)! David helpfully tells him that he's getting too tall for the 125's now. Hence Bradley's gritted teeth.
4) I'm not Bradley's younger brother, I'm Randy Mamola's son! Who's son? Randy Mamola's. You haven't got an American accent. No, It's a mixture of both. Are you a rider? Yeah, I ride in the Britsh 125 class in the same team as Niall MacKenzies son and I'll be at the next round at Brands Hatch. We're not sure we believe him but we get a photo with him in any case. We vow to google him when we get home. Sure enough it is Dakota Mamola who's 15 years old and has already won races in Spain and now he's got our brave lads in his sights. They might as well give up now.
5) Still recovering from a close encounter with Randy Mamola's son we stumble across this fella putting the finishing touches to Shane Byrne's Shoei helmet (more tea Vicar?). Vicky spots the 'tarty umbrella girl' on the back of the lid and accuses the designer of basing it on Jody Marsh. Howard says, well he did go out with her. David, prudently, is saying nothing.
6) Fastest in Final Qualifying, Cal Crutchlow goes for it at Copse Corner on his Yamaha. But can he repeat the trick in Superpole? Oooh, dunno.
7) Having learnt from our Moto GP experience we've pre-booked our Pit Lane Walk tickets. We're not quite sure what to expect but we are hopeful of seeing somebody we've heard of. Anyone seen Troy? Nope. Hmmm, not a great start.
8) Aha! This is more like it. Blokes in team apparel loitering with intent around a works Ducati. And there's a plastic funnel-thingy in the petrol filler. Fascinating.
9) Now then, who's this? Where's me programme? Ah yes, it's Sylvain Guintoli, Leon Haslam's Suzuki team mate. Knew that (oh yes).
10) BMW's Ruben Xaus - this is more like it. Makes up a bit for Troy Corser hiding. A retired Neil Hodgson, quivering with fear at the prospect that 'Our Roobs' might still be capable of knocking him off at any second, just out of shot.
11) Young riders keep on getting younger and younger shock Pt 2964. This is Gino Rea (as it says on his T shirt). No he's not related to either Jonathan (or Alex - one for all you Wolves fans) and is from Surrey. He rides a Honda in the Supersport class and that's all we know. Didn't stop us getting a signed poster. In fact, we get several posters between us. Dunno what we're gonna do with 'em. Haven't got enough frames for stuff as it is. All-in-all we must admit we enjoyed the Pit Walk.
12) All eyes are on Cal Crutchlow as he enters the pit garage and the start of Superpole which he duly won. Ah yes, says Howard, all well and good. He's set pole before at previous rounds but he's never won a race yet. My money's still on Biaggi. Howard just won't be told.
13) With Superpole over it's time to investigate the scran vendors behind the Pit Straight grandstand. We choose the Thai option. Note hugemongous spring roll to share between us. Howard's getting twitchy and warns of approaching Food Police sirens. They'd have a field day here alright.
14) Back in the grandstand now to watch the last half of the Supersport 600 Final Qualifying. This is Eugene Laverty on his Honda crossing the line to set pole position.
15) Now we've moved around to Luffield to watch the Superstock Final Qualifying. You can always spot a goodun, can't you? It's the way they push things to 100%, 100% of the time. They lean over a bit further, place their body weight further forward, that sort of thing. Consequently, it's no surprise that number 86, Ayrton Badovani, sets the best time on his BMW and will be on pole. Number 10, A. Boscoscuro on his Honda, finishes up 16th quickest.
16) An actual race! This is the European Superstock 600 round. It was a great contest. Which was a good job as there was only 16 riders. Seems that the recession is not only hitting MotoGP. The race was won by Luke Mossey (no not Rossi, David, you deaf git) on his Yamaha but not before he had to overcome a determined Florian Marino and his Honda. He only took the lead on the second from last corner and held on by just a few hundreds. Good stuff. 
17) The new pits complex continues to grow. It's getting late now. Nearly 6:30 and we've been here for nine hours. Not many folk remain. But we stay to watch the British Superstock riders for a few laps at Abbey. Well, it's the least we can do given they have had to wait since 9:30am yesterday to get back out on track again (as one of them told us at great length earlier). The lot of the 'support rider' has been forever thus we told him. But I don't think he was all that convinced.
18) The National Superstockers enjoy the new complex of curves linking Abbey and the Wellington Straight. It's time to go home now. We are cream-crackered. Not as young as we were, y'know. Still, should be home for half-eight. There's a music/beer festival on near Shelsey Walsh tomorrow. Might go if we feel up to it. Then again, might not.