On arrival in the Dales we phoned 'The Queen's Head.' No response. We left a message but no-one got back to us. Phoning is a tricky business here because we don't have a land line and mobile phone signals are erratic. We have to walk to the back garth and stand facing west to have any success. If you absentmindedly move a little to the side while talking the connection fails.
On Sunday we drove to the 'Queen's Head' anyway. No sign of life. Another car pulled up and the occupants jumped out and peered through the pub windows. Curtains half closed - what's going on?
We drove to 'The Huntsman'. "No food, the chef's done a runner." We drove to yet another of our regular eating places. It was full, obviously with clientele from the other places. It was getting late now and we were feeling ravenous. Last chance was, 'The Friar's Head'. Well, good for the friar, he had a table for us. We were so hungry that could hardly make a choice from what was on offer. Okay then, why not just plump for the three roast option? Enormous plates of meat arrived. Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, crackling, assorted sauces, gravy, every sort of veg. It looked overwhelming.
But, Dear Reader, we ate it all!
It's just as well that we do a bit of walking to offset all this feasting. The weather was far from brilliant during our stay so our walks on this trip were short. It's been a wet year, as the mossy walls testify.
What's the saying? There's no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing!
Snowdrops and forsythia on my wall.
And it's always a beautiful day when it's time to leave!