If they let me sing, you might have to bring your tomatoes indoors.

This week, purely in the interests of research you understand, I had a bit of an outbreak of castles - everywhere I went, there they were, looming on the horizon in much the same way as a sore throat looms when you have a singing engagement.  Not that I ever do, of course, on account of singing like the sound of a nail file being slowly drawn over the edge of a piece of paper, but you know what I mean.  This is not to say that I don't sing, I sing a lot.  All the time.  But only under very strictly controlled conditions, ie, soundproof ones.  My rendition of 'Sugar, We're Going Down' can bring tears to the eyes of a budgie and can cause unrestrained vomiting in the susceptible, so I tend not to do it when there are humans (or budgies) present.  Which is causing me a small problem because, for my interview on Radio York tomorrow (2pm Russell Walker's show, just thought you might like to know...) I had to choose two pieces of music to go along with the interview and I've chosen two that I can't help but sing along to.  They might have to pull the plug.  Or adopt some kind of 'scorched earth' policy, sowing the ground with salt when I've left, burning anything I've touched, spraying the city with hydrochloric acid, that sort of thing.  If you live in York and your tomatoes are outside, I'd bring them in around lunchtime on Monday, just in case.  Oh, and cover the budgie, it's for the best.

And this is only one chorus in.  Imagine if they'd let me get to the end of the song!  The horror!

Hang on.  Where was I?  Oh, castles, yes.  Well, what can I tell you about castles that you don't already know?  They're big, built of stone, full of ornamentation,  are absolute buggers to dust (oh.  That applies to all  mantelpieces as well), have staircases full of Americans (probably not original features, but you can never be sure with castles) and are designed with maximum loomage in mind.

There is a castle here.  It's creeping off the side of the picture to hide.  They do that, castles.  Hide and then creep around behind you just when you least expect it, wait until you're watching TV, innocently drinking a cup of tea and then WHAM!  Out they leap and run over your foot and all you can do is jump into the air spilling your tea and hope that it gets eaten by the cat.

 Or that might be spiders.  I forget.

Anyway.  That one is Bamburgh, on the Northumberland coast.  The beach is also lovely, as am I.

 Alnwick, caught in the act of creeping closer, every time I turned around, it was a little bit bigger.  Like Grandmother's Footsteps only with crenellations.

Also, in a moment of total surrealism, I found myself tiptoeing around the moat of Warkworth castle in the dark and a small rainstorm. It's probably best if we keep that between ourselves though, since I'm not convinced I should have been there and besides, I have no idea how to pronounce it.  Is it 'Waaaark worth' like the sound of a duck being trodden on?  Or 'Walk worth' like the sound of a duck with a speech impediment being trodden on?  It could be important if I have to make a statement to the police.

Right.  I'm off now to brush up my scales, polish my fur and try to make myself presentable for my radio appearance, since I know you'll all be peering at me through the little grill effort at the front.