So, the Bongo needed a run out and we needed a change of scene. We swapped the snow in the back garden for the snow at Carding Mill Valley. Beautiful. It was colder, if that’s possible, but the river (it was a stream really – but a big one!) was a welcome change from our little fish pond. The wind was icy and we wore the obligatory six layers of clothing. (We’re old and wrinkly according to our grandchildren – you can’t be too careful.)
First job when you’ve reached that wrinkly age and it’s less than 5 degrees outside, is to find the loo. No problem. Good toilets, clean and plenty of them just next to the shop and cafe.
Second job – hot coffee and biccies in the Bongo. Got to be better than sitting at home watching Jeremy Kyle and wondering why anyone would volunteer to participate in his show. Then a walk. The roadway was cleared of snow and if we walked backwards, the wind didn’t freeze our eyebrows. It was bracing. Sometimes when you walk in a cold wind, you get rosy cheeks. My jaw froze. I couldn’t speak. Rude words from hubby absolutely acceptable under the circumstances.
We nodded to passing dog walkers and hikers, presumably they couldn’t speak either, and we relished being out amongst the sheep with their lambs, then back to the Bongo for lunch and more people and sheep-watching.
All along the roadway are notices telling you that there are sheep wandering free, so please keep dogs under strict control. Everyone did. Well, nearly everyone. There was a woman – young – with a pretty old and weary looking spaniel on a lead and two very young, very excited and very active spaniels running loose. Now sheep and dogs should never be allowed to socialise unless they’ve been shown how to do it. They hadn’t. The two dogs made an Olympic-type sprint for the sheep and the sheep made a dash for the hills – the lambs struggling to keep up where the snow had drifted.
We wondered why this woman didn’t think the notices applied to her. Maybe her dogs were different. Privileged in some way we didn’t understand. It happens everywhere, most people stick to the rules knowing that they’re there for the good of others, whether human or animal, but there are always one or two who think those rules weren’t written for them.
Respect. Such a small word, such a big meaning.
A good day though. It’s well worth a visit, as are most National Trust/English Heritage sites.
Next week – knowing British weather, we may just need bathing cossies and deck chairs. We’ll see.