It's Hop Festival time again in town, and the streets are crammed with wall-to-wall Morris Men and drunk people. It's no place for a dog (or anyone under about 5 feet) as all you see is sardines which are shoulder to shoulder next to you in the sardine tine which is Preston Street. Dad swerves this completely by manning the barge's viewing gallery all day - down at the creek side on the wharves we are well away from the madding croud's ignoble strife.
Our first warning that this is all kicking off is the clippety clopping of the Shepherd Neame horse drawn dray which which clatters past our house on the way down to be on show at about 09:00 causing we dogs to go into a frenzy of barking protest. It also does this on the way home at about 4 pm on each of the two days of the Festival.
Definitely no place for a dog
Deefski
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