Mum, who needs a new knee and will get one later this year, doesn't get out much so we organised a day out, a mystery tour. It was so much of a mystery tour that five minutes before we set off we had no idea where we were going. One little thought that I had in the back of my mind was a nice pint of beer. Preferably John Smiths but anything liquid would do.
As we drove out of Harrogate, Jan mention the number of dead pheasants by the side of the road. I said, 'Aye lass, even t'road kill in Harrogate is reet posh.'
Never having been there before, we set off for The Lion at Blakey Ridge, high up and isolated on the North Yorkshire Moors. They had quite a good beer selection and I settled on Old Speckled Hen. The others got stuck into wine. The place was full of earnest walkers, people who were walking from one side of the country to the other. Have they never heard of trains?
The food was hearty and big portions. My haddock fillet was fresh, well cooked in a lovely batter and hung over the sides of the plate. Excellent.
On the way back we passed through Hutton-le-Hole. Jan, using her degree in stating the bleeding obvious said, 'I wonder if there is a French connection?'
What a pretty village. Actually a bit too pretty for my tastes, you couldn't see any slag heaps! Still, the sun was shining and this was our last day before braving the volcanoes and getting home to the dogs. With all the sheep grazing quietly by the side of the road and lots of lambs frolicking in the fields Jan said, 'How do you thing Max and Minnie would react to the sheep?' I said, ' Would that be before or after they ripped them to bits?'
Women just don't have the same sense of humour.
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