Tearful Farewell

This morning we take our little girl, Daughter, to East Midlands Airport and bid her a tearful farewell as she heads off to La Rochelle for all of five days. Although she looks like she’s being sent away for ten years hard labour. As she's going to join her father, this may well be the case.

He drove out there without her because he was planning on taking a barbecue but then didn’t. So in the end this flight was unnecessary but here we are and she looks so worried you’d think it was her first time on a plane. You wouldn’t know she’d done around a dozen skiing holidays and even a trip abroad with her friends.

We say our goodbyes and leg it. Well the car park is half an hour at a flat rate and then it escalates sharply thereafter. We try to pay but can’t find the ticket machines, which have been craftily hidden behind a building in Arrivals and we’re in Departures. If I was cynic I’d say this was a devious means to increase revenue.

Then we’re on a blissfully quiet M6, if the M6 can ever be described as such. The joys of travelling on a Saturday I guess, when most people are already where they want to be.

We leave the motorway at J34, two junctions early, to drive through the countryside into

Dentdale and what I suppose is its capital Dent. We camp, take a short hike and then find the pub.  

There are two and first we try the Sun, and then move on to the George & Dragon, home of the Dent Brewery. Where the prize exhibit is T'Owd Tup, at 6% not to taken lightly.

 (Tuesday 28^th May)