Saturday dawns fine and almost sunny. That’s in Yorkshire, I’m not sure how things are in Wales.
L heads into Harrogate and to Bettys (no apostrophe!) under the premise that it’s perfect pre-race prep for tomorrow.
MD is well hyped up for his first course. Too hyped up and demolishes everything. I attempt to calm him down before course number two which is a very tricky course aimed at the higher grades and for which we have no chance of getting round clear, let alone getting a placing. Oh. Brilliant run MD, never doubted you. Sadly he clips one pole and with five faults we come 17th, out of 220, so that isn’t too bad. Still, had we not had that pole... 4th.
After his third and final run, I’m considering remaining him ‘one pole’. Just one down again but so frustrating because we set the fastest time. Two hours later, only one dog has beaten us on time but that one pole means we get nothing. Off to strangle him.
The old master, Doggo, does an impressive clear in his Olympia qualifier, not quick enough to qualify but impressive all the same. Unfortunately we mess up his second run, well I do.
L texts to ask if I’ve got room for a fat rascal? Well, I’ve got room in my tent for a thin one if she’s game. The fat rascal turns out to be a type of cake, the apostrophe-less Betty’s speciality. Sorry Betty but it’s nothing special, not as good as the lemon drizzle they serve up at the farmhouse here.
We can’t head up the local again because the pub is closed on Saturday night for a wedding, which seems an odd way to run your business to me, so we drive elsewhere. Frustrating the pub we drive to serves exactly the same three beers, Black Sheep Bitter, Theakston’s bitter and Taylor’s Landlord. Food is good though.
(Saturday 9th July)
The Marconiphone Radiogram
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