SHE was the picture of defiance. Her Churchillian jaw set, she heard every word spoken by the three women behind her at the Tesco supermarket checkout.

She was in her early 50s, henna-ed hair cropped short, her neck, back and arms covered with more tattoos than you'd find on a flotilla of sailors.

But the eyes of the others were not on her, but on the contents of her basket.

"The sign is plain enough - 10 items or less," said one woman, before returning to her pursed lip pose.

"She has at least 13," said another, blatantly scanning the offending container to make sure of her facts. "Some people don't understand simple rules."

"And some who do, couldn't care less," joined in the third, an owl-like women, who had checked her basket just to make sure she was on the right side of 10.

They huffed and clicked tongues as the offending woman paid and thanked the assistant warmly.

Then with a broad grin, she turned to the three, cheerily wishing them "Good day" - before delivering a gesture that brought a united intake of breath.

Perhaps she was admitting she had two items over the limit - or was it something less genteel?

TUESDAY found me not in Oxford - as is my usual pattern - but at Stoneleigh and the Royal Show. It's something I enjoy, even though the traditional attractions of superb livestock being judged and paraded by proud handlers seem to be less compelling these days. There were empty seats in the stand, where at one time, they were at a premium.

It was baking hot - 32 degrees C. I recognised one elderly farmer from the Witney area - he's almost 80 - dozing in the shade by the picnic area.

"Nine weeks ago today he had a hip replacement," his wife volunteered. "He's doing well, but the heat is a bit much for him. But he wouldn't miss the Royal' for anything."

I knew he kept dairy cattle and had no extra help. Gone were the days when he had half-a-dozen labourers.

"How did he manage with the milking?" I asked.

"We muddled through until he could get back into the milking parlour," she said. "That was a fortnight after the operation. Mind you, he needed his stick."

"Only a fortnight!" I gasped. "What did his doctor say?"

"We didn't tell him. He wouldn't have done the job for us," she replied.

Incidentally, I didn't mention that the wife has been confined to a wheelchair for years.

Resilient is hardly the word.

LESS inspiring were several dog owners who left their animals in the searing heat of locked cars.

"When I asked one chap what he was thinking of, he said haughtily that the dog was there to protect the vehicle and its contents," an RSPCA officer told me. "And his excuse was that it would be defeating the object to leave the window open."

"What was your reply?" I asked.

"I'd better not say - it would cost me my job!"