How's this for a pretty view across the Dales, with the 2CV camp setting up in front of Duncombe Park's house. Lovely (when it's not raining). Unfortunately, it's been a bad August for rain and looks like being the wettest ever on record. The camping field had soaked up a fair share of it and was a bit boggy, especially on the flat bit at the top.
The constant passage of narrow 2CV tyres don't help, and we dogs had a sorry time having to cross these minor morrasses each time to and from the loos, beer tent, cinema tent, food tents. Who am I trying to kid? No sooner were we out of the car than all three of us had rolled in some soggy cow pat or a pile of sheep poo or whatever, have you.
When the sun shone, though, you could definitely tell it was August - temperatures shot up to 20-23 and it was lovely out of the wind. Some lads flew kites to entertain us (we love chasing around on the ground as the stunt-kites fart and whistle about overhead).
We meet first-time campers Mike and Bev (plus young Elliott) and help them get a palatial tent up (you could park the car in this one). At least, I think we were helping. There were a few raised eyebrows when I started strolling about over the pristine white bits, but we got there in the end.
Mike and Dad shared a few beers and tried to protect me from a small Herbert called "Theo" who decided it was fun to be "a dog's worse nightmare" - Dad called him that but, un-abashed, he wore it like a badge of honour. About 5 we'd guess (maybe more), he thought it was great fun to run at me swinging a pretty fish-shaped windsock on the end of a huge roach-pole under my nose, then took exception if I woofed at him and chased him around. He wouldn't go away. Short of going "Grumpy old git" on the little tyke, we were at a loss. Mike said "Grumpy old git" was definitely worth a try!
We meet an amazing bloke. Driven by 2 passions, 2CV vans and coffee, he'd set up in business selling nice lattes, cappuccinos, espressos and so on from the back of a converted 2CV van. You know the ones I mean - l they look like a 2CV at the front, but there's a corrugated iron shed welded on the back!). He calls the business "Cafe Solo". You drink your coffee while listening to his CDs of Django Reinhardt and Stefan Grapelli. The guy lives on Holy Island and is, part time, a coast guard for the tidal causeway.
As well as serving superb coffees, he was keeping us amused by tales of rescuing hapless motorists who'd ignored the tide-time warnings and whose cars had been inundated by the incoming tide. At least one a month, he said, had to be helicoptered to safety. On Japanese chap in a hired (Hertz) car had very little English, and kept saying "My luggage! My luggage" as his car sank. Trying to help him with possible insurance stuff, they's asked him for his Hertz paperwork.
On it was scribbled dozens of Japanese calligraphy characters and next to them, their translations into English, which were all words like "Laxative", and "Diarrhoea". "You'll probably not be needing those now...." they'd suggested. They'd phoned Hertz to explain that if they wanted to come and get their car it was in the North Sea. At first the receptionist thought it was a gang of Geordie lads having a laugh with her.
Daleswoman Deefski
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