The idea was that the dogs would need a good night’s sleep.
They slept until about half past one when some Cambridgeshire creature started
squawking. Cat, fox, chicken or yeti; whatever it was it upset Treacle and Pogo
who started barking, and within seconds we could hear Fudge joining in from
across the courtyard.
After half an hour the anonymous animal shut up. But then
the pub’s landlord called his dog in, which provoked more barking. In fact we
found things to bark at every half-hour of the night.
As we went in for brekkie we got chatting with the
landlord. The strange overnight squawking had been a deer being attacked by a fox
outside the pub where we were staying. The landlord had been in in the thick of
it. He’d gone out to see what was happening, and was unable to chase the fox away;
it was that brave. Eventually he and his wife dragged it off of the deer, but
the fox kept trying to get at the deer. It even tried to nudge the humans out
of its way. The landlord had the idea to put the deer in his downstairs
bathroom until the RSPCA arrived, but the fox just prowled about shouting until
the nice man from the RSPCA took the deer away.
With a very good full English breakfast scoffed we drove out
to Alconbury. We then set off on a double geo-stroll following two sets of
geocaches. Half of the “WestUpton Circambular”, all of the “Coppingford
Crackerjack”, and then the second half of the “WestUpton Circambular”.
A round trip of eight miles. Eight miles in Kent is a respectable distance. In
Cambridgeshire it is easier because it is a lot flatter, but the strong winds
and thick mud more than made up for the lack of any hills.
The mud was impressive. The dogs were absolutely filthy.
However as we came to the end of our walk we found a ford. Usually open for
traffic to pass, today it was closed. It was too deep and the water was flowing
too fast. To the dogs’ absolute disgust I used this opportunity to scrub the
worst of the mud off of them.
When we got back to base we got out the dry shampoo and had
a little dog scrubbing session. Bearing in mind how mired the dogs had been,
they ended up remarkably clean.
We went into the pub where we had a pint; we played
triangular Blokus. I do like triangular Blokus even if I was ganged up on and
lost with a score of forty-seven. (For those of my loyal readers who have
never played Blokus, a score of forty-seven is akin to Liverpool FC losing
fifty-nil at home).
We had another game of Blokus in which I did better; I had
another beer or two. Then we had dinner. I fancied the steak and chips. Oh – it
was good. And my ice cream came out with a birthday candle and a rousing chorus
of “Happy Birthday to Me”
We then withdrew to Karl and Tracey’s chalet. After what
looked like half a pint of port I staggered off in the direction of bed.
I took a few
photos of the day. As birthdays go, it was rather good.
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