Back on track again today, and here you see me trudging along a hard stone path with NO boots provided. No wonder I’m wearing out. Harvey went off piste again. Something about avoiding the peat bog, he claimed, but then we learned he’d met a mysterious shepherdess, Amanda Owen. She’s been on Look North and all over t’internet, whatever that is.
The rest of them kept going on about the view, but there didn’t seem much to look at to me. Just sheep. Then more sheep. They even started nominating ‘Sheep of the Day’, which shows the intellectual level at which they operate. Then Chris managed to stumble into a peat bog and ended up with just one wet leg. One. Pathetic, but for humans it’s 50% down of course.
They’ve solved the complaints problem by allowing only five minutes a day whingeing. But then they start getting personal about me. Is it my fault they keep sneaking sausages off the breakfast table to give me? And does that justify endless sniggering references to me as a ‘sausage dog’? The most insulting one was when they were arguing about whether I am an English Springer Spaniel or a Welsh one. The fact that I do frequently take a leek seemed to amuse them no end.
We eventually reached Keld, which is just half way to Robin Hood’s Bay. Quite an achievement, so I thought I’d put together this quick sketch map to show you how we’re doing.
Sheep of the Day