Wild horses
With it being quite a mild day we took Eddie the PBGV with a big heart into the country for a wee constitutional. Some place called Little Longstone, near the start of the Monsal trail. Unfortunately the rest of country had also chosen today to visit this tiny village, took an age to find somewhere to park and eddie was starting to stress and pant, poor thing still isn’t too keen on cars. 2nd problem was that we couldn’t work out a way to get to the trail that didn’t involve hiking across muddy fields, once the muck was up to our knees we figured we’d best give up on the idea. So we did the obvious thing and set off for the lovely pub in the centre of the village, and we were walking up the lane with Eddie when we heard a large rumble, and some hysterical barking and I think I now know what it must be like to be hit by an enormous tidal wave, except rather than being composed of water; this was a tide of bloodhounds. The thousands came wooshing around the corner and I had to grab Eddie so he wasn’t washed away, all barking wildly they scraped past my legs almost knocking me over but barely noticed me as they were concentrating hard on their mission. Soon behind came the hunters all giggles and ahoys on horseback, shouting hi at me and Eddie. Does owning a Dog make us one of them?? Shudder. And why is it that I go all my life haven’t never seen a hunt taking place, and then do so as soon as it’s made illegal?
Do you like my portrait of Eddie? Haha, my illustrator skills are coming along a treat.
