Poppy goes to the Peak District
The day began just like any other day in Poppy’s little world. Dad came to get me and carried me carefully downstairs, because ever since I hurt my leg, that has become our new normal. Then he carried me out to the front of the house, and off we went for our gentle walk round the block. Along the way I saw my friends Bernhard and Darcy, which was very exciting for a small dog. The sky was dry, and Poppys do like the dry. I did not see the nasty cats, but I kept my eyes open, just in case they were hiding somewhere with their sneaky cat faces. After breakfast, I watched Dad tapping away at his silver box, doing his busy Dad work. I watched for a while, then decided there was only one sensible thing for a wee dog to do. Snooze.
When I woke up, things had become very interesting indeed. Dad took his silver tippy-typing box out to Blue the car, which was curious enough. But then Mum picked up my cushion. My cushion! Well, I thought, this was not an ordinary sort of day at all. We all climbed into Blue, and before long she was heading straight for Granny’s house. When we arrived, Dad and I stayed inside Blue, which was very odd. Soon Mum came out carrying a case and a bag, and close behind her came Granny. Now, Poppys have been around the block enough times to know what that means. Bags, cushions, Granny, and Blue all together can only mean one thing… we were going to Englandshire!
It was a very long way to Englandshire, and Blue worked ever so hard carrying us all along the big road. Dad sat in the back, busy with his silver tippy-typing box, while I sat up front on Granny, keeping a careful Poppy watch on the world rushing past the window. Mum was guiding Blue along, mile after mile, until poor Blue needed a little rest. She pulled off the big road to catch her breath, and we all climbed out to stretch our legs. Oh my paws, it was hot! The ground felt like it was trying to toast my wee feet, and the air was thick and heavy for a small dog in a fur coat. I looked up at Dad with my best serious face. “Yes, Poppy, it is very hot,” he said. I knew it was. The last time I had felt that warm was two summers ago, far away in Croatia.
After Blue had rested, she joined the big road again. On and on she went, through busy cities and little towns, until at last the world outside the windows began to turn green and hilly. Inside Blue it was lovely and cool. Dad had his feet stretched over the air blowers, and I had three whole blowers pointing at me, which was only fair, because I do have a fur coat to think about. Soon we came into a little village called Castleton, where Blue turned off the road and stopped beside a brook, right in front of a small house called Losehill View. For such a small village, there were peoplesees everywhere! Where had they all come from? Why were they all here? Mum and Dad began carrying our things from Blue into the house, while I set off on a very important inspection of the house and garden. There were lots and lots of new smells, and every one of them needed a proper Poppy sniff.
Then Dad went out to move Blue, because she could not stay right outside the little house. If she did, she would block the path, and Blue is much too polite a car for that. So she had to go and find another cosy spot to rest for the night. I followed Dad through the back door and into the yard, my nose already busy with important sniffing. “It’s all right, Dad,” I said. “You go and look after Blue. I’ll stay here and look after Mum and Granny until you come back.”
After dinner, we all had a quiet, cosy evening in the little house. Granny went to bed after the football, though Dad did not look very happy at all because Rangers had been beaten again. To cheer himself up, he had some of his daft juice, and by the time our nighttime patrol came round, he seemed a little brighter. Now, Poppys absolutely love nighttime patrol in new places. There is always so much to sniff, so much to hear, and so many invisible stories floating about in the dark. The peoplesees had all gone away, and the village was very still. Then, all at once, my nose twitched. I knew that smell. Mr Ratty. He was not there just now, but he had been. Oh yes, he had been. I gave the dark a very serious Poppy look. I think I shall be paying Mr Ratty a visit.
Today was a lovely day, the sort of day that makes a wee dog’s wag all by itself. We all went out to a place called Tillies for breakfast, which sounded very promising indeed. Mum and Dad had a full breakfast, and Granny had eggies with salmonsees. As for me, well, Poppys are very good at looking hopeful, and soon I had sausages, bacons, eggies, and even salmonsees too. Yum! With our tums full and happy, we set off to explore the village. We wandered back along the main street and up Castle Street, where Blue was resting after carrying us such a long, long way.
The village was very nice and away from the main street there was space for poppys to stretch there paws with out getting stomped on.
Mum took us to a farm shop where there were lots of tempting treats but I was much more interested in what was outside. In a big cage there were funny looking big fat rats. Along side them were rabitsees. Well they soon scampered when they saw me! Dad said we better make a quick exit so off we went.
In the afternoon, we were going to a place called Bakewell, which I was told was where the tarts come from. Now, Poppys are always interested in places that sound as if they might involve treats. Dad went to fetch Blue and bring her back to the cottage, but poor Blue had a terrible time turning round in the little space. Luckily, the nice peoplesees from the Three Roofs Café, right next door to our cottage, came to help her out. I like the peoplesees from the Three Roofs Café very much. They always say hello to me and give me lovely pets. “Dad,” I thought, giving him my best hopeful look, “why don’t we go there for breakfast tomorrow?” “OK, Poppy,” he said, “that sounds like a good idea.” Mmmmm. I shall be holding you to that, Dad.
We left the village by the tiniest, twistiest road you ever did see. It curled and wriggled this way and that, just like the little roads on the islands, where Blue has to be very careful. Up she climbed, out of the valley, with the houses growing smaller behind us and the hills opening wide around us. At the top, we stopped for a moment and looked back at the town below.
Well, what can I say about Bakewell? To a small dog close to the ground, it was not quite the treat-filled wonderland I had imagined. There were forests of legs everywhere, marching this way and that, and I had to keep my wits about me so I did not get trodden on by any careless peoplesees. And then there were the shops. Oh, the shops! Mum and Granny went into one and stayed there for what felt like forever. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. When they finally came out, I thought, thank goodness, adventure time! But no. Straight into the shop next door they went, and off I went back to waiting. By the time they came out again, it was almost time to go back to Blue. Still, on the way back to the cottage we stopped at The Plough Inn. That was much more like it. Granny had a huge roast beef dinner, Dad had Welsh rarebit, Mum had a ploughman’s lunch, and I had ham and cheese. Yum!
When we got back, Blue found herself a new little resting place just across from our house. Mum and Dad were going out that night, which meant I had a very important job to do. I was in charge of protecting Granny. First, I checked the house from top to bottom, with my nose leading the way, and then it was time to make sure the yard was safe too. Sniff, sniff, sniff-sniff. Wait a minute. Something was under my paws. My nose twitched. Mr Ratty. I could smell him, oh yes I could, but where was he hiding? It was time for Poppy to investigate.
That evening, Mum and Dad went out to a place with the strangest name I had ever heard — The Devil’s Arse. They said they were going to see an old man called Hugh Cornwell sing songs. I was not invited, which seemed rather unfair, but I decided not to make a fuss. Instead, I found myself a cosy little spot, curled up neatly, and settled down to guard Granny and the house in proper Poppy fashion.
Mum and Dad came back when the world outside had turned dark and sleepy. Dad took me out for my nighttime patrol, which is a very serious job for a little dog in a new place. The village was very, very quiet, as if all the peoplesees had tucked themselves away for the night. We plodded round by the Three Roofs Café and up the little lane beside the river, where the dark was full of rustles, whispers, and wonderful smells. My nose hardly knew where to begin.
Because the village was so quiet, Dad looked this way and that, then unclipped my lead. Poppys loves being off leash. The main street in Castleton was empty and still, with not a single peoplesee hurrying about, so I walked along with my ears listening and my nose working hard. As we plodded back towards the cottage, I suddenly stopped. There it was again. Sniff, sniff. Mr Ratty’s trail. He had definitely been here, creeping about in the dark with his sneaky little ratty paws. I lifted my nose, gave the night my most serious Poppy stare, and made a promise. I’m coming for you, Mr Ratty.
This morning, we went to the Three Roofs Café for breakfast, and oh, what a brilliant idea that was. The kind peoplesees who work there all said hello to me, because they clearly know an important small dog when they see one. I only wished we had gone there on our very first morning. Mum and Dad had the full English, and Granny had pancakes, which looked very soft and tasty indeed. As for me, I was not forgotten. I had bacons, sausages, and a little bit of eggy. Yum! So if you are ever in Castleton, you must go to the Three Roofs Café for breakfast.
After we packed up Blue, it was time to head for home. At least, that is what I thought. But when we reached the big road north, Blue seemed to have ideas of her own and turned towards Blackpool instead. “Why are we going to Blackpool?” I wondered, looking from Mum to Dad and then to Granny. Dad spoke softly. “We’re going to Stanley Park to say goodbye to Grandpa,” he said. “He and Granny had their first dates here, so part of him will be here forever.” At the boating pond, Granny poured some white stuff into the water. She said a few quiet words that my little ears could not quite catch, and then we stood together for a moment while the ripples carried them away.
Before the long journey back up the road, we went to the Park Café for something to eat. A travelling Poppy must keep her strength up, and I was very hopeful indeed. Granny and Dad chose posh cheese on toast, which smelled great to my wee nose. Mum had something with chips, though I cannot tell you exactly what it was, because not one tiny crumb came my way. Not even a crumb.
Then it was time to go back to Blue and begin the long road home. As we passed the pond, a little crowd of duckies suddenly began to follow us. Waddle, waddle, waddle they came, all in a row, looking far too interested for my liking. I stopped and narrowed my little eyes. Mmmm. What were those daft duckies up to?
In a flash, I spun round on my little paws and chased them away. Off they waddled, flapping and fussing, back towards the middle of the pond where daft duckies belong.
It was a long, long ride in Blue all the way back up to Scotland. The road seemed to go on forever, and I snoozed, shuffled, and watched the world slide past the windows until, at last, we were nearly home. It was after dinner time when Blue finally rolled onto our own street, tired after all her travelling. I was tired too, but it had been worth every mile. I had sniffed new smells, guarded Granny, kept watch for Mr Ratty, chased daft duckies, and had a wonderful time in the Peaks.