Pulled Over

I have dug out a couple of links for you, in case you're curious.

Duncombe Park itself is on.

http://www.duncombepark.com/

I love that it's owned by Lord and Lady Feversham. We come from Faversham, in Kent, and I can imagine that if one lived in a house (hice?) that posh one would pronounce it "Feversham" too!

The Cafe solo guy is on

http://cafesolo.org.uk/

... a very funky site with lots of animated stars twinkling in the background.

I didn't tell you, did I, that on the way up North we were "pulled over" by the wannabee police patrol guys ("Highway patrol?"). There we were, minding our own business plodding North having just sorted the first (Peterborough) fuel problem, when these guys slowly overtook, cut us up a bit and pulled in in front, with the flashing sign on their roof saying "Follow Me Vehicle Inspection". Gulp! None the less Dad gives them a thumbs-up out the window to let them know we have got the message and will follow.

Once he's got over the feelings of guilt (What I do?) that you always get when the Feds single you out Dad went on to worrying that maybe we were leaking fuel and we'd be taken off the road - condemned! So, the wannabees indicate left and whizz up a slip road, then round two round-abouts at speed. Dad suspects that all is not well - they do not seem to be driving in a 2CV-following-you-and-trying-to-keep-up friendly manner. It is all we can do to keep them in sight. At one point a van gets between us and they don't seem to care.

Anyway, after a few yards they pull into what looks like a lorry servicing area, and then bimble about as if undecided where to park. Dad follows patiently. When they eventually stop, Dad steps out and presents himself. The wannabees look totally confused at this. Why is this weirdo following us in a 2CV full of dogs?

"But, your sign..." says Dad. "What?" they ask. "Follow Me Vehicle Inspection"????!!! (now a tad annoyed)

It turns out they have left the sign on by mistake or pressed the wrong button on the dash. they don't want us at all, and we can go on our way. They try to lighten the mood with jokes about "I'm surprised half of Nottinghamshire didn't follow us in here" and "My mate only stopped you coz he wanted to buy one of your dogs" Fnarr Fnarr. How we laughed.

Very droll I'm sure
Deefski (acquitted)

When it's not raining...

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