More caravan

The evening of Friday had seen us all gathered again at 2CV Llew's caravan, all be it Mum slightly delayed by meeting a burning hedge in the lane and having to call out the Fire Brigade. Might have been just an excuse to entice hunky uniformed firemen into a leafy lane at night but we're saying no such thing. Mum arrives with all the ingredients for a nice risotto and the evening is warm enough for us to stay outside and fire up the log burning converted LPG cannister. Autumn does come, though, in terns of the change from chilled whites and Prosecco, to the more hearty reds. Dad cooks, we all relax into the evening, beds get wrangled and that's another evening gone.

On Saturday, Diamond is being to taken to favourite restaurant 'Le Cygne' in Saint Omer (Northern France) by John for a birthday meal, so we are babysitting Ragworth. Mum, Dad and I nip over to collect him mid morning, leaving the H asleep in the van. This lets Mum drop us all off at the Albion pub carpark from where Dad and we dogs can walk the nice hour's walk round the Creek bank to the Shipwrights' Arms and back to the boatyard that way. Dad has been warned that Rags can be a bit problematic with other dogs, but the footpath is crossed regularly by secure 'kissing gates' so Dad can let Rags off the lead and just grab him easily enough should any dog walkers come the other way. Not many do; most people time that walk to end up at the pub when it's open!

We then have a relaxing day around the caravan with all three dogs off the lead and mooching around. Diamond and John return at 6-ish to collect Rags and Diamond's comment is that never was a dog more fitted to the caravan lifestyle! He looks the part and definitely enjoys the day. Mum's cooking tonight so it's a bit more adventurous; a roast rack of lamb with vegetables and very nice too, judging by the bits of vertebrae we get at the end. Also it's a bit chilly in the wind so having got a good coal-assisted fire going in the burner for Diamond and John's visit, we now let that burn down low and retreat indoors for tonight's feast.

Sunday sees Dad get up on the alarm and vanish off to lead a Deer Walk for the Friends of Kings Wood in Challock Forest, showing the public the delights of the fallow deer rut. It goes well and they all see and hear plenty of deer and plenty of rutting buck behaviour. Dad returns and we decamp to Icklesham where there is a family meal at the Queen's Head involving Mum and Dad, Pud Lady and Dad's younger bro and sis-in-law. From there we all retreat back to Hastings where bro can show us all his holiday slides of Galway which include some of our tentative new house which bro tracked down on his way to/from the west coast.

Enough for this one, then. We are now back in the old routine of Hastings and Pud Lady's, of which more tomorrow.

Deefs

The Shipwright's Arms

Poor old Haggis is not very well and, naturally, as he is 14 years young, this is the cause of a certain anxiety among the humans, including the Angel Betty. He was off his food last night and spent the evening mooching around groaning and grumbling theatrically and was a bit sick at one stage.

This morning the humans cannot deny that they both crept anxiously down the stairs whispering "Please be OK!" and were immensely relieved to find the "H" strolling about un-concerned (and no longer groaning and grumbling). Mum left a message for the Angel B, who came round to check up on him each hour but only reported a coughing fit. Tonight he has his appetite back and is still not groaning, so we assume he's recovered from what ever it was.

Dad liked these pics, both taken from the deck of the SB Cambria last Sunday. This guy put-putted off down Faversham creek in his sail boat, midday-ish, sails furled, outboard running, black and white collie leppin' about under the (reefed) fore-sail. He returned under sail at about 2 pm, weaving interestingly with his dog running along the north bank. He'd presumably been for a lunch time drink at the Shipwright's Arms at Hollow Shore, which is accessible from the Creek side.

Every now and then the dog (who you can just see centre left in the pic, up on the grass bank) would judge himself far enough ahead to run out across the mud and swim out to catch the boat, but he'd always get it slightly wrong and the drunken sailor would weave by the swimming dog, apparently oblivious of the dog's attempts to get back on board. The dog, disappointed, would paddle back to the bank, leap across the mud, shake himself and run on ahead again up the grass levee.

We presume eventually man and best friend were reunited but everyone probably needed a good lie-down by then!

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The good ship Kestrel

Some pics then of the good ship Kestrel moored to her recent long-stay moorings at Hollow Shore down by the most excellent pub "The Shipwrights' Arms" (Dad reccommends the Goachers Ship Wreck if you are keen on real ales at all).

Sorry these are only mobile-phone pics.

In the dog pic, I am nearest the camera, Haggis is looking intrepidly out to sea (well out across the creek anyway). The guy in the cockpit earnestly scrubbing is 2CV Llew himself fitter-in-chief of Dad's own "Clara Bow" car.

I suspect Dad may get kinda involved in this boat and go on some sailing missions there-in. He used to whizz "Larks" about on gravel pits in Cambridgeshire as a student, so he knows his way around spinnakers, booms, cleats and gybing, but Kestrel has a load of bigger-boat stuff like coffee-grinder winches, shrouds, auto-helm and a little Mercury out-board (which Llew has yet to service). We'll see. Even Llew's dog Rosie (she of the beer and tea drinking fame) has never been out on a boat with him before, so it could be quite entertaining.

Watch this space

Deefski