Last night I discovered that if you ate roasted vegetables with feta, followed by a lump of dark chocolate and hot milk you dream of the Royal Family, better, you become intimate friends with them. I'm chopping the vegetables now because the dream was so good and I want to go back there. Prince Phillip himself escorted me through brightly lit woods up a hill to a palace never shown on TV.
Princess Margaret was a hoot, and the Queen enquired as to what books I enjoyed reading. We became such good friends. I felt almost part of the family, and best of all a royal equerry in a green tweed jacket enquired after Clay Cross. He dropped heavy hints. Did I have a spare copy of the book? I told him I did. He took it from me with a promise I couldn't refuse: 'Clay Cross by Royal Appointment.' He whispered it earnestly and I woke up with the determination to roast some more vegetables. The only problem is I have no Feta. Might Wenslydale do?