High Force Robbery
Mr Sun was out again today, bright and cheerful in the sky, but I could tell at once that we were on the move. Dad wound in the electric cable, turned off the gas, and pulled in the step. Then Betsy gave herself a little shake, woke from her sleep, and off we went. She carried us into the County Durham countryside, where the roads grew narrow and the hills climbed higher and higher. Some of them were so steep that Betsy had to work very hard indeed. At last, she came to a rest at a place called High Force. Dad went off to get a car park ticket, and when he came back, he was not a happy bunny. “Twelve pounds for parking,” I heard him mutter. Well, I thought, we are here now. I soon found a bench, so we all sat down to have our lunch. And what a lunch it was. Ham and carrot. Mmmmm. Yum!
We were going to see a waterfall called High Force, which sounded very grand indeed. But then came shock number two. It was four pounds each to walk down and see it. Dad stopped still for a moment. “Twenty quid to see a waterfall?” he muttered. I looked up at him, then towards the path ahead. Well, I thought, for that price, it had better be something very special.
Well, it was time to move on to our new home for the night. This one was a campsite just outside a place called Barnard Castle. Betsy rolled in late in the afternoon, a little tired from all the narrow roads and steep hills, but pleased to have found somewhere to rest. By the time Dad had settled everything and Mum had made it feel cosy, it was nearly dinner time. After that, there was only one sensible thing left to do — curl up, feel safe and warm, and have a very good snooze.
The next morning, we were supposed to catch the bus into town. We waited and waited, but no bus came. Dad looked down the road, then up the road, then gave a little sigh. In the end, he picked me up, tucked me in his arms, and we set off marching towards town. Every so often we had to stop, because Dad’s arm needed a rest, and I must say I was doing my very best to be as light as a feather. After a while, we came to a bridge. Well, there is only one thing to do when you find a bridge. You cross it.
Well, it turned out it was not a bridge after all, but an aqueduct. You could have fooled me. It did not look anything like the aqueducts I had crossed before on the canal boats. Still, it carried us safely across, and that was good enough for me. When we reached the middle, I peered down at the river far below, then looked out across the town. My ears lifted. “Look, Dad, a castle!”
The path on the other side took us straight into town. It was busy, mum said it was market day. We explored the town. Dad found a record shop, mum found an antique shop Poppies found a pet shop YUM.
Still no bus came, so we walked all the way back to camp. By then, everyone was ready for a quiet afternoon. Mum and Dad settled themselves down with their books, while I chose the very important job of lazing about and keeping an eye on things. I stretched out, sighed a happy little sigh, and let the afternoon drift by. Sometimes, after a big adventure, doing almost nothing is exactly what a Poppys needs.
The next morning, we caught the bus! No long carry into town today, which made Dad very happy indeed. When we arrived, though, almost everything was closed, so we decided to explore the castle instead. As castles go, it was not the grandest place I had ever seen, but that did not bother me one bit. There were old stones to sniff, corners to investigate, and plenty of interesting little smells tucked away in the walls. For a Poppys, that is often better than treasure.
The main reason we had come into town was to book a table for dinner that night at The Old Well Inn. Once that important job was done, and since we were already near the castle, Dad decided we might as well walk back to camp. It was warm at the campsite when we got there, and I was given my long lead, which meant I could wander about a little and inspect the place properly. I sniffed the grass, checked the corners, and made sure everything was exactly as a campsite should be.
It was hot. Very hot. So hot, in fact, that even I had to go and find some shade. That is one of the best things about Betsy. When it rains, she keeps us dry. When it is cold, she keeps us warm. And when Mr Sun gets a little too excited, she gives a wee dog a cool, shady place to rest. I tucked myself beside her and felt very pleased that Betsy knew how to look after us.
Well, tonight it was the bus into town for dinner, and a taxi back to camp afterwards. That sounded like a very sensible plan to me, especially if it meant Dad did not have to carry me all the way again. Tomorrow, Betsy would take us on the long drive back to Glasgow. I thought about all the places we had been, all the smells I had sniffed, and all the cosy snoozes I had enjoyed along the way. It had been a lovely, relaxing adventure — just the sort of holiday a Poppy needs.