It looks like I'm part of the vole-untary sector... a weekend in Suffolk...

My cute friend here is suddenly a minor celebrity in these parts, having appeared in the latest Stowupland Focus, as part of a story about the threat to our local nature reserve.

Yes, it's time for another Focus, with stories on buses - bad for Stowupland, good for Creeting St Peter, waste disposal and local government reorganisation, and Ros, Jamie and I were out in the brisk south-westerly winds, delivering them across the ward, and I'm delighted to say that we've very nearly finished, with just a few outliers still to deliver.

It's funny, but I actually enjoy delivering leaflets in my ward. People are surprisingly friendly, and they take a polite interest as I amble around, leaflet in hand. Occasionally, I get caught up in conversation, and it's a great way to get a perspective on what's happening in the community. And it has other positive effects, as I appear to be a bit lighter than I was when the campaign really got under way. I suspect that, if I am lucky enough to get elected, there might be a book in it, "The District Councillor Guide to a Better You".

But our weekend wasn't just about leaflets, there was an outing to Sudbury, where we had been invited for tea. I'd never been to Sudbury before, an omission which certainly surprised Ros, and it's a lovely little town, on the end of a little branch line off of the main East Anglia line at Marks Tey, on the River Stour. Andrew Phillips, our host, and his wife Penelope live in a house which runs down to the river, and we had a lively early evening before it was time to head back to mid-Suffolk.

On the way back, Ros had a moment of genius, and suggested that we have dinner at the Bildeston Crown, a 15th century coaching inn. Ros had the bream, whilst I plumped for the pigeon, served as roast, confit and pithivier (a miniature pie, with the leg bone of the pigeon stuck in the top). It was a mite on the fussy side for us villagers, but very good none the less, and washed down in my case by Suffolk's own lager, Calvors.

As we left, Ros noted some press cuttings, and her attention was drawn to a report of a rather rowdy public meeting during the 1885 General Election, when the Riot Act was read to the assembled throng, and seven, yes seven, policeman were required to restore order. Those were the days...