Iestyn Edwards Wonders...is it Lumpy or Runny?

  A woman with wiry, flicked hair, in a pink vinyl mac, and gingham pedal pushers came through from Thorpeness Meare, leaving her jack russell off the lead as she continued past the duck pond. Three pairs of nesting swans and the egyptian geese were grazing there. The woman turned as people remonstrated with her, then stood in a bevelled pose, like a resting burlesquer, and indicated that she was happy for her jack russell to run to and fro barking by the water's edge.  The goose nosed the tiny gosling into the pond and jumped in after it followed by the gander. The swans stood absolutely still, feathers up all around, in front of their cygnets.    The woman smirked indulgently at the jack russell, until a man picked the dog up by the collar, walked over to her and thrust it into her arms.  ' Take this back to wherever it is you're from!' he told her. After a stunned moment, the woman loped off across the grass, drawling back over her shoulder, 'Crouch End!'   

  The Simpson's annual pop up summer bistro in East Suffolk went vegan the year Francis Quentin-Curnow was six.    Francis had apparently been born gluten and lactose intolerant and with IBS. His wasn't cradle cap so much as Intensive Care Baby Incubator cap. By the time he was four he was asthmatic, eczmatic, diabetic; rivalling pure violet light for taking up space on the spectrum. Aged five he asked to go in the carnival procession as Anne Frank. The following year he announced that he was vegan, please.  On the QT that year, Gerard Crastley - whose grandmother, Lady Simpson, remember, made him spell out long words, as he went to the wrong school: Harrow rather than Eton - encouraged Francis to adopt a yak. Daphne, Gerard's mother, was Francis's godmother.  'You adopt the nice yak, chap, and you get a photo and it will write you letters,' said Gerard.  'What joy, eh?  The yak is being endangered to death, Quent,  And it's not a quick death - as with B