diary of life with a spaniel: big hills

Of course we're not lost!

The Peak District is one of my favourite places in this country. Goodness knows how I ended up in East Anglia - we don't have hills here, although we do have a small slope. Sledging in winter was challenging, involving several people pushing to get moving at all.

Last weekend The Family (they're a bit like the Mafia, my lot, only with fewer horses' heads in beds), Henry and I headed for the hills, quite literally, to stagger up Kinder Scout. It was fantastic, if somewhat painful (for some reason,my hip joints decided they'd had enough 6 miles in - hmph) experience and one I intend to have again soon (apart from the painful bit).

Henry met his first sheep, and conducted himself like a champ, running for cover - i.e. me! (well they're bigger than me! - Henry). Unfortunately the second sheep he met was a little less brave, and Henry chased it for all of three steps before he remembered that they were indeed bigger than him and ran away again. I don't think I have a potential killer on my hands here, thank goodness.

After we'd staggered back down again after getting slightly mislaid at the top due to a path which had been eroded away to invisibility, The Family went home. Henry and I stayed out and camped at this place. Henry made friends with a little Dutch (I think) girl who had a lot to say to us - shame we couldn't understand a word! (Speak for yourself ignoramus, I got every word - Henry). He is the most gentle, trustworthy dog with children - he will sit for ages, shaking paws with them and letting them play with his ears.

I was very taken with the panniers several other dogs we met were wearing. I think Henry needs a set of those - it's about time he earned his keep around here. (We'll see about that - Henry).

It was so hard, driving away from the hills. We're going back soon.