The land of scones, cream and jam

Having navigated our way through the first three days of our adventures in Cornwall, we awoke to the familiar sound of Lenny snoozing in his cave bed. Tea was made, we got our now normal stroll around the local area and we made ready for the shenanigans ahead.

Into the car and off we set. There seemed to be much trepidation from our parents regarding our destination for the day. Through streets and along lanes we travelled until we turned a sharp right just before a small fishing village called Mevagissey. We hardly had time to read the sign before the car stopped and we were harnessed. Welcome to the Lost Gardens of Heligan. I looked at Lenny who looked back at me. We were sure that says Hooligan.

Once we had announced our arrival to one and all, we set off around the gardens which were lovely. Beautiful colours, wonderful shrubs and trees, quite a few other dogs and all the while there were scents everywhere. In some places the paths were quite steep but Lenny and I found our four-paw drive coped adequately. Our parents shoulders and arms did not cope so well with our attempts to investigate as much of the site as possible as quickly as possible.

We were getting a bit tired toward the end of the visit so we actually managed to walk quite nicely around the walled garden whilst smelling all the herbs, vegetables and fruit trees which were in blossom.

When we leapt back into our travel crates something strange happened as both Lenny and I fell asleep very quickly. So this was the plan of the parents. Tire us out like they did in the Lakes last September. And we had fallen for their ruse. We managed to get back to the holiday house for a short rest before returning to the pub for the early evening to “make sure it hadn’t closed”.

We awoke quite early and saw the sun was still shining. In fact the sun had been shining every day we were there, which was a bonus. After our morning constitutional we heard it muttered that “no car today because we are walking to Lands End”. Breakfast was taken and we readied ourselves for the fun times to come. Strolling through the village we went up some steps and then onto the South West Coast Path toward Lands End. The SWCP is actually a 630 mile path that runs from Minehead in North Somerset to Poole Harbour in south Dorset. We were walking a very short section of it which was lucky as, according to our parents, Lenny and I were already very pully. The path was well marked and thankfully dry so we made good progress, even past the wreck of RMS Mulheim which went aground in 2003 on rocks and broke up soon after.

Having made our way to Lands End itself we strolled about, checked out Longships Lighthouse which is about a mile offshore and then strolled about some more.

We decided against having our picture taken under the signpost which tells you how far you are from home, as it used to be free and now costs, according to a parent, too much and is a rip off. Instead we had our picture taken outside the little model pub.

It was decided that we would stroll back and get an ice cream on the way. Lenny and I looked forward to this as we had never had ice cream before. Sadly when we returned to Sennen Cove it became apparent that the ice cream wasn’t for us, only for the parents so we had to make do with some biscuits. The ice cream was apparently very nice however. We wandered reluctantly back up the hill to the holiday house at which time Lenny and I were to be found flaked out on our beds snoozing away for the rest of the late afternoon. Just for a change we went to the pub to make sure the beer was still good.

Our last full day dawned bright and cheerful. We managed to lift our weary bodies out of our beds for a final assault on enjoying ourselves. Having taken our morning bimble we returned, ate breakfast and made ourselves ready. Today we were going to do some culture and history. There is a place called Chysauster, which is near Penzance. It’s an ancient village so is pretty much a ruin now, but still very interesting as we found out. It was originally constructed about 2,000 years ago and was populated by people who were predominantly farmers. The walls of some of the houses remain but thats about it as the roofs were probably made from wood and thatch so degraded many years ago.

It had been undiscovered until the late Victorian era when an archeologist decided to excavate and see what was there. Apparently these types of settlement are only found in Cornwall and the west of England. Even Lenny and I found it interesting and it wasn’t a strenuous finish to our last full day in Cornwall. On our way back to the holiday house we decided to sleep soundly. We were rudely awakened to find ourselves in the middle of a cleaning mission by our parents before, unsurprisingly, we went to the pub “just to finish off the week”.

Lenny saying goodbye to Sennen Cove on our last full day.
Cheerio Sennen Cove

We had a great time and can recommend it to people. You’ll need a car though as many places are quite far apart and off the well trodden paths and roads. The sun shone and we enjoyed ourselves. In fact we slept for the following two days after we had returned home, so it must have been fun.

Cream or jam first

Wow, where do I start? Somewhat later than I would have liked I can put paw to paper and tell you about one of the biggest adventures Lenny and I have ever had.

This particular Saturday dawned the same as pretty much every Saturday morning recently. One thing was different though. We were awake early, and I had seen some travel bags and dog items being put into the car the previous night. Ok, thats two things but beagles only ever count treats. Along the lane we walked so we could get some scents and do what we had to do. After a while we turned around and wandered back towards home. We were fed whilst the rest of the holiday items were put into the car. Then it was our turn as we were loaded into our travel crates and off we went.

Time seemed to pass really slowly at first as we wound our way around the lanes and minor roads toward the road that would take us, who knew where? Time to stop and stretch our paws and then off on our merry way once more. Two more stops including one when I reminded the parents that it was biscuit o’clock, and we found ourselves winding our way down a narrow country lane. As the boot was opened the smell of sea air filled our noses. Where were we, this wasn’t the normal beach we frequent and we are allowed to eat dead washed up sea creatures. We strolled down a slope toward a strange house, with a strange outlook toward a strange beach. Ensconced behind a door we watched as the contents of the car were unloaded among much grumbling about most of the “stuff being for Dex & Lenny”. Everyone was a bit fatigued by the time we had arrived and decided to adjourn to the pub to “see what it is like”. We were somewhere called Sennen Cove, in the far west of Cornwall. No wonder it took so long to get here.

As we awoke on our first full day, I poked my nose around the curtains to find the same scenery as yesterday when we arrived. We went for a short walk so we could get some scents and explore a bit. Back to the house and it was decided that we should go for a stroll around the coastal path to the next beach which was dog friendly and sounded exotic. It is called Gwynver and off we went. More avid readers will recall that I tend to pull and mess about on lead when I get excited for new scents and new places. The walk around the coastal path lived up to expectations with steep paths, steep drops and the associated huffing and puffing from an exasperated parent. We got to the top of the cliff at Gwynver and looked down to the beach. When I say looked down I mean down. The path was steep and rocky which prompted more worry and concern at the level of my impatience to walk quickly. With the path down navigated very slowly and carefully we strolled across the beach and rocks all the while ensuring that everyone who was there knew Lenny and I had arrived.

We made sure we saw all there was to see and then walked onwards towards another path and home. We’d been out for ages and the parents were feeling a bit tired. Dad went off to get supplies at the local shop and after a rest at the house, we went to the pub for the evening to “check it out again”.

This sea air was making me tired. I saw the Lenny was starting to sleep in longer too, although he sleeps like a log anyway. In any case as we awoke on the second full day on holiday, we took the now familiar stroll around the local area so we could smell rabbits and try to pull our respective parents into the nettles and brambles lining the path. Breakfast was taken and it was time to go out. Lenny and I were told that there would be lots of travelling today so we had to be good. Red rag to a bull comes to mind. Along the road past Lands End we turned right, left, right and left, went down hill and uphill until we arrived at a place called Minack. We were warned again that we HAD to behave here. We duly greeted the ladies on the entry booth of the Minack Theatre in our customary beagle manner. Minack Theatre is a wonderful place. It’s a theatre perched on the edge of the cliff on the southern part of Cornwall. The backdrop is the Atlantic Ocean.

Lenny and I were in awe until we realised we were still in Cornwall. The seats and steps were very steep which caused more consternation as to my alleged penchant for pulling on the lead.

We strolled down the steps, took to the stage, gave a performance worthy of an Oscar, made people smile at my antics and then strolled back up the steps again. It was lovely and we really enjoyed it all. Back in the car we wondered where we would go next. All the lanes seem really narrow and we were driving carefully around corners under we reached a place called Mousehole. Now, I don’t think its called Mousehole as many people called it Mowsull. Also we didn’t see any mice and there weren’t any holes.

It’s a very pretty small fishing village to the west of Newlyn and it is very touristy. We weren’t allowed on the beach so we enjoyed ourselves walking around more little narrow lanes. Duly loaded back into the car we set off for our last destination of the day, Penzance, so dad could post a card, take a picture of a pub and we could get a longer walk along the promenade. We walked along said promenade and made our presence known to the people at the little coffee shop doing a good trade in the early summer sun.

Having then walked and pulled our way around the lanes and seen St Michaels Mount, we returned to the car for the journey back to the holiday house. Just for a change we went to a different pub in the evening, again to “check it out”. Lenny and I just slept.

We awoke to the sound of dad making a cup of tea for mum, who was poring over a map to locate the next stop on our adventure. After we had lifted our weary bodies out of bed, and mum and dad had walked us around the local area, we got into our travel crates for the shenanigans ahead. Usually Lenny is a bit wary of the travel crate but he realised that fun was on the cards and positively leapt in and made himself comfy. We made our way to Perranporth on the north coast of Cornwall. Mum had seen some pictures of her parents here many years ago and had wondered what it was like now. Well, she was finding out exactly what it was like. Warm and sunny with a dog friendly beach.

We wandered and strolled about the town and even managed a visit to the nice sandy beach.

Saying goodbye to the beach, it was back into the car and off to somewhere shrouded in myth and legend. We drove down more winding country lanes and were duly deposited at a place called Tintagel. Lenny and I knew this is where King Arthur lived and we hoped we would be able to explore his castle. We were not disappointed as we walked across bridges, saw dilapidated castles, steep cliff and the water crashing on the rocks below. This was great fun as we explored, climbed onto lofty perches, nosed about amongst rocky outcrops and had our picture taken far too many times.

Then, for the last time on the day, we leapt into our travel crates whilst we were driven back to our holiday house. We managed to drag ourselves to the pub to “make sure it was still alright” although we really just slept and dreamed about our adventures.

In fact I am so tired now, I will finish my stories of adventures soon.

So, there I was.

Five years ago today I was hauled unceremoniously out of my bed at some unearthly hour of the morning to be brusquely advised “Come on, we need to do a good early walk as we are off on an adventure”.

The Buckinghamshire hills

Off we went on our merry way, along the hedgerow so I could scent the critters who had spent their evening tucked away safely. We returned home far too early for my liking and I was loaded into the car and warned to “Be good”. Soon upon the first motorway we were whizzing along. We then arrived on the second motorway and seemed to be travelling for ages when we left for the normal roads and I was told to shush as they had to concentrate on where we were going. Around the lanes, across the cross roads, turning left, right then left and the car stopped. As the boot was opened the glorious sound of over a thousand beagles met my ear drums and I couldn’t help but sing the song of the breed.

We had arrived at the Beagle World Record event in Macclesfield near Manchester and my parents had kept it secret from me and, it appears from a large number of my friends. We saw our buddies straight away and again I had to greet them all in typical beagle fashion.

Then the main event arrived. We knew we had to walk around a course of about a mile to try and break the largest dog walk by a single breed. All the humans had to wear a little tracking device which showed that they had walked us around the course. We didnt know how many beagles were there, but we knew there were plenty. We knew we were up against formidable opponents as it had been Yorkshire Terriers somewhere in Mexico that currently held the record at 783 (thats a lot of Yorkies!). Anyway off we trotted around the course, through the wood, alongside the lake, through the other wood and thence back to the finish line. As we crossed the line the humans made sure their trackers were registering and then we were allowed to have fun and play. I got a certificate to say I had taken part and in lieu of us beating the record it was filled in with my name. We knew we had to wait for a while until all the beagles had been counted and the numbers verified. We wouldn’t know that day so we strolled about some more and then made our weary way back down the motorways and home.

World Record holder

A few months passed until it happened. We all got notified that we had done it. I was one of 1,029 beagles that had walked around the course. I am a world record holder. That sounds quite good to me. And I had fun too, with loads of my buddies, so thats even better.

12 weeks and counting.

I haven’t been on here much recently as I have been busy recuperating from the operation on my cruciate ligament back on 6th January. I know I reported progress around three weeks after the operation but thought I would let you know how I am getting on. That is of course if you are interested.

I was at the vets each Monday for about 6 weeks after the operation. I had laser treatment but I avoided wearing the trendy goggles that are normally used. I had one parent alternating each night staying downstairs with me as I was banned from stairs for over a month. It was extremely boring staying on the ground floor as I was being regaled with stories from Lenny about sleeping in his bed and being able to stretch out, not being hassled by me during the night and getting midnight snacks whilst I wasn’t there. For the first few weeks the only outside time I got was in the garden which only added to me feeling stir crazy. Then during the day my walks started although they were short and slow which was due to me healing. Also my parents said that I was normally an idiot on a walk because I can smell a squirrel/rabbit/fox/deer (delete as applicable) from around a mile away. I went along a quiet road at a slow pace to help build up the muscle wastage that I had suffered over the preceding months. My mum was doing physio sessions with me three or four times a day. My leg was being worked hard but carefully to ensure that there were no relapses. Come rain and shine I was out on a short walk and then back to the house where I shown how to exercise my leg and get stronger. Treats and a peanut butter lick mat may have helped here, so I am not putting it all down to my own will power. Suddenly I was allowed upstairs although at first I was lead walked up to my bed at night. During the day I was still restricted to downstairs but I didn’t mind too much. After a couple of weeks of being accompanied I was found upstairs as I had secretly engaged in a bout of snout jousting with Lenny which had finished with us finding the best spot to look out of the window and check squirrels in the garden. We weren’t in the proverbial good books for a while, especially until they could ensure that I hadn’t done damage to myself.

When I went back to the vets for the last time, around three weeks ago they said I was doing really well, mum was doing a great job on my rehab and physio and I could start to go on longer walks. We had to increase the mileage slowly each week from less than a mile to a mile, a mile and a quarter all the way through to a mile and a half currently. I have been going to different places and its got a bit more interesting. I sill don’t walk with Lenny as he goes for longer walks than me and we tend to compete for scents when we are together. I’ve had a couple of setbacks where I started limping a little and then my front left leg was playing up. With the aid of some medicine and anti inflammatories I seem to be on the right path now though.

I couldn’t have done it without my parents. And even Lenny helped by giving me time and space to heal. He knew I was in some discomfort as soon as I arrived home after the operation although I think that the onesie, Fentanyl patch and me looking spaced out might have given the game away.

Anyway yesterday it was 12 weeks since the operation and we went to the beach in the wind and rain. We met up with our good friend Griff who brought his parents along. We walked and there was chatter with some cake and coffee mixed in. I’d had three walks all over a mile and a half. I didn’t even realise I had gone that far and there are no ill effects today.

We actually found the Bluebird Cafe in Ferring which was an excellent place to go and very, very dog friendly. Today we have mainly been sleeping and dreaming.

To this. At Ferring Beach yesterday

I’m on the road to recovery. For a “nearly” thirteen year old beagle I feel bionic but I am being reined in by my concerned parents. There’s life in the old fella yet.

Well, that was an adventure

A yearly review always seems to be on the cards so I will dispense with the long winded wordiness about what we did and didn’t do this year. Essentially we had fun, went on adventures, lost some dear buddies and remained loved throughout.


We lost my sweet cousin Minnie to the horrid C. Rest easy fur cousin.

For the rest of the month we rested and I felt melancholy.


Lenny and I were accused of being “thick as thieves” as we seemed to be plotting shenanigans after chicanery. Not sure what they meant.

Storm Eunice introduced herself to the UK and Lenny was out the day after to check the destruction she had wrought.


Spring sprung and the blossom bloomed.

We enjoyed the days becoming warmer and the sun on our fur.


We went on separate walks so we could explore at our our own pace.

I enjoyed pulling parents along the lanes.


Vampires slept whilst all around them got on with their lives.

I took the chance to catch up on my sleep as well.


Taking time to survey my patch is always important.

But then we found the Paw Paddock at Horsham (actually its nearer to Warnham). I was a puppy again.


Then we found Paw Paddock Horsham again.

Enough said.

Ok, one more at Paw Paddock Horsham.


We lost Tyrrell, one of the best beagle pals you could ever wish for. Rest easy sweetie.

We also got to explore a place called Whiteways near Amberley. Phew, what a scorcher.

We also lost Eddy. He was one of my oldest friends. We had met a few years ago and strolled about. He was another rufty tufty beagle lad. Rest easy Eddy dude.


We explored the beach at Goring By Sea. We were supposed to be at Ferring but thanks to dad we didn’t get there.

My favourite place anywhere. Just beautiful.


The nights started to draw in and our beds seemed more comfy each day.

We ensured that at least one parent had to sit on the edge of the sofa.


We lost the most beautiful and wonderful Nut beagle. Rest easy sweetie.

We soaked up the last warmth of the sunshine.


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone.

Time for more thoughts about what lies ahead.

And with that the year ends. I am fortunate to be loved and safe, to have a multitude of friends and to have a happy life. Sometime in early January 2023 I am off to the vet to have my leg fixed so I can try to run around again chasing Lenny like a “fur possessed”. Shenanigans will have to wait sadly.

Best wishes to all for the coming year, may you all stay safe and remain loved.

It’s a biggie for me

What big events have taken place in your life over the past year?

I finally got to show my brother, who isn’t really my brother, the Lake District in the UK. I know it may not seem like much to some, or many, people however for me it was a dream fulfilled. Also, for Lenny, it meant I could stop going on about it all the time as he now knew what it was really like.

I didn’t see that coming

I am going to hand over this blog to my younger brother who, whilst not actually a blood relation, is growing on me. Also I have allowed him to live here so he feels like a sibling. Over to you Lenny.

Waking up ten days ago I had no idea that something strange and wonderful was afoot. Now I am not great in the car as I used to get ill as soon as I was in my travel crate. However the parents have been taking us out for trips recently and clearly they were making me more comfortable travelling, without me noticing. It’s a little sneaky but it worked. We were walked a short distance first thing in the morning and then back home. Dex & I knew something was on the cards. Dad loaded stuff into the car and then we were lifted royally into our travel crates. Off we go. Who knew where. Quickly onto the motorway we seemed to be going for ages which was confirmed by some serious grumbling about traffic coming from the front of the car. One motorway merged into another, which merged into another and so on. We stopped a couple of times and stretched our legs which was a welcome relief from being cooped up in our travel crates. About ten hours later we pulled up outside a small cottage and we breathed in some clean air. What was this sorcery? All our baggage was unloaded into the house at which point we decided to decamp to the pub across the road which was packed with people and a fairly large number of dogs. Dex and I enjoyed their company as we lay quietly under a table. We went to bed tired but happy as we were told that we were in a place called Bassenthwaite. This was the exotic Lake District that Dex had been telling me about ever since I arrived.

The next day we strolled around the village so we could acquaint ourselves with the area. Then we decided to go to somewhere called Cockermouth which is a town in the northernmost part of the Lakes. It was quite quiet but we had a good stroll and got provisions for the coming days. As a precursor to what lay in wait, it was an easy start.

Monday arrived and we decided to seek out a place called Buttermere which was on the western side of the Lakes. Sadly dad was doing the navigation so we arrived at Crummock Water which was close but still needed a couple of miles walk. Of course we walked along by the side of the lake, drank the water, chatted with other dogs there and had a fun time. We had a great time.

Tuesday dawned and we were quickly onto our paws. A brisk stroll around the village meant we had to wait for the parents to finish their breakfast. Duly loaded into the car we travelled to Keswick. Dex seemed to know where he was going and pulled along the paths and lanes toward Derwentwater. As we gazed across the water from Friars Crag we realised this was the best fun we’d had for ages. It certainly wasnt time to go back to the car so a trip further around the shore was undertaken with much happiness.

Dex looking regal at Derwentwater

We wandered tired back through the town and visited a few shops, and then found ourselves in the car and whizzing along the lanes to the cottage. We fell asleep in the pub in the evening.

When we looked out on Wednesday it was still good weather so we did some more local exploring and then strolled down to the lake at Bassenthwaite near the cottage. This was great as it was almost deserted and we could stroll and sniff to our hearts content.

Bassenthwaite Lake

All this fresh air and tons of exercise was beginning to take its toll and we were getting sleepier and slower. Dex warned me that this was probably a ruse by the parents to slow us down. It worked, as we spent another evening quietly snoozing in the Sun Inn.

The Sun Inn, Bassenthwaite.

Thursday arrived and the rain poured. Then it rained some more and just for good measure, it continued to rain for most of the day. We had the fun bit of watching our parents getting their waterproof gear on to take us for a couple of walks however they both realised that their walking boots were so old that they weren’t fit for purpose. In fact their footwear was disintegrating as they walked along the lanes. We enjoyed Thursday as it was a down day so we could recharge our batteries for one final assault on our senses.

As we peered around the curtains on Friday we were filled with much trepidation. Thankfully it was bright and sunny so we knew an adventurous day was in the offing. Having been walked around the village and stopped outside the pub for the customary photo opportunity, we almost leapt into the car and wondered what was in store.

The best behaved beagles in The Sun Inn.

After an hour or so we were unloaded and found ourselves at the beach in a nice little place called Allonby. I remembered the last time that Dex & I hit the beach as we could eat all the dead creatures washed up. Unfortunately this beach was clear of dead sea creatures so we had to amuse ourselves with pulling our respective parents along the tide line for a few miles. We also took the time to sing the song of the breed to our friends over the border in Scotland.

That’s Scotland over there, Lenny.

As we left the beach we took a slightly different route which made me wonder where we were going. Dex & I looked at one another as we went left and right down little country lanes, up and over hills and fells until we arrived at a place called Wasdale. As we were let out of the car I couldn’t believe my eyes at the beauty of it all. Dex had told me about Wasdale and Wastwater and I thought he was exaggerating. No chance, it really was fabulous. We walked down by the water, we trampled through puddles, we paddled in the freezing cold lake, we climbed rocky outcrops, we gazed at the hills and mountains and felt like we never wanted to leave.

Wastwater. It’s beautiful.

Sadly for us, we had to listen to the parents who insisted that we return to the cottage so we could start packing. Dex & I knew this was the end of our holiday so we wandered dolefully back to the car and home for our last night.

As we awoke on Saturday it was clear that we were making tracks back to our home down south. We were loaded into the car which was pointed down the motorway and after one stop for a stroll about we arrived back to normality. I am very lucky to have been able to see places that are so pretty. I wont forget the trip in a hurry but, in the meantime, I have some sleeping to do.

Ferring or not Ferring.

We had an unexpected trip yesterday morning. As we left the house we saw that dad had his camera with him. Lenny and I also seemed to be going in the same direction. Mum asked dad “do you know where you’re going?” to which he rolled his eyes and got a poke in the ribs for being cheeky. As it turned out, he didn’t know exactly.

Along the little lane and then turned back towards home. We knew there was going to be a car journey. Great, another adventure. Soon after we had been lifted regally into our travel crates, we were off south bound. Right, left, straight over and then left into a car park overlooking the Channel.

This is going to be fun

We were allowed out and breathed in the sea air. As we looked up I saw a building called Sea Lane Cafe in Goring by Sea and then looked at dad, who looked at mum and sheepishly told her that this wasn’t the Bluebird Cafe in Ferring. I thought you knew the way! We all rolled our eyes at him and then set off east along the path and the edge of the beach. We strolled, counted beach huts, said hello to other dogs, strolled further and then found ourselves on the edge of Worthing.

There’s the pier at Worthing

We turned back at this point as it was getting warmer and the water bottle was running a little low. As we wandered past the Sea Lane Cafe (Not the Bluebird Cafe) we decided to see if it was possible to get to where we were supposed to be.

Lets go this way. No, lets go that way

Lenny was flagging by now as he has no stamina for longer walks. So yet again we turned and made our way toward the car.

I think Ferring is this way!

I have to admit that I was also tired by now so I was glad of a little rest in my travel crate. Once again we required to be regally lifted and placed in our respective places and off we set, retracing our journey northbound and to home. Maybe we will get to the correct cafe one day. When we got home we heard rumour that if breakfast had been taken al fresco, Lenny and I were on for snaffling some sausage.

Currently we are curled up dreaming of long walks on a pebbly beach with a stop off at a dog friendly cafe serving breakfast sausage fit for beagles. If only dad knew where he was going.

South along the Downs Link

The avid readers amongst you may recall that Lenny accompanied me on a walk a couple of weeks ago from West Grinstead station north to a little village called Copsale. Today we returned to West Grinstead once more but, somewhat surprisingly, we went south along the path to a village called Partridge Green.

Tickets please!

We were shocked when we walked up and back along the old road near the house, finding ourselves at the car for the second day in a row. What was this sorcery? This was unheard of? Two trips in succession? We wondered if it was because today is a Bank Holiday and our parents felt like we needed something extra to amuse ourselves. In any case we drove a little way north and then east. We arrived at the little car park and we swiftly disembarked from our travel crates. Lenny is getting better at travelling and doesn’t seem to feel as ill as often as he did.

Heading under the road we followed our noses south along the old rail track which has been made into a path for walkers, riders, cyclists and often runners. We were swiftly into our stride of going to the grassy sides of the path as these areas held the best scents which, in turn, gave us the best chances of pulling parents this way and that. Through the old cuttings, past fields of stubble and then into little wooded areas, we strolled along with our noses 2 inches above the ground. Every now and then we were reined in as cyclists or runners went past us. After a good wander we looked up to see a little sign post confirming we were in Partridge Green. My parents of course had to find out where the pub was and we also found out that the Dark Star Brewery is located here. Dad boasted that he had been to the brewery but we weren’t particularly impressed and just wanted to continue on with our walk.

We were beginning to flag somewhat at this point and a water stop was needed. As we turned around and headed north along the track, I looked a little behind me and saw Lenny walking like a “good boy”. Apparently he was still a bit tired from yesterdays herculean efforts on Cissbury. That boy has no stamina, let me tell you. Thankfully the path is fairly flat so Lenny didn’t have too strenuous a return journey although we did have a little stop to rest his weary long legs.

We arrived at the station and were duly lifted back into our travel crates for the return home where breakfast was loudly requested by us running around the garden baying at the top of our lungs.

It’s alright Lenny, you can sleep on my chair.

We have been sleeping for the rest of the day as it is apparent to some that two days of fun walks are more than enough for a senior beagle and his vampiric sidekick. I’m not sure who these dogs are, but I wouldn’t mind meeting them.

Cissbury Ring ramble

I was going to ramble wordily around the houses as to what we did yesterday but the title gives it all away.

We allowed the parents a bit of a lie in as it was a Bank Holiday Sunday after all. Lenny and I had no idea what was happening until we turned out of our little road and went left along the old road. Sharply we were turned around and heading back to the house. Ok, so we weren’t going across the fields for a good scent of fox, rabbit and squirrel. Having ensured that we were lifted into our travel crates, we set off south along the main road. We scooted past our recent ascent of Chanctonbury and seemed to be on our way south. Surely we weren’t going to the beach. After listening to them grumbling about Lenny and I eating “dead stuff” on the previous occasions I wondered if they had relented and were going to give us another chance to visit the garden at all hours of the night for a few days. As I was wondering we turned left up a side road and into a gravel carpark. This was new and Lenny looked as bemused as me. As we leapt out and onto our paws we both looked up and up at a big hill in front of us and I could see the glint in Lenny’s eyes. We set off at a pace as Lenny decided he was going to scent his way along the path and dad was being pulled this way and that, as Lenny did a more than passable impression of a land shark through the long grass. Into the wood, then out and onto the next section of the hill.

I can see for miles, Lenny

Up the steep bank and we were greeted with a view back to Chanctonbury in one direction and the sea in the opposite.

See that clump of trees on the left? That’s our usual walk

This was fun as we could scent all sorts of creatures and we made sure that there wasn’t any laziness or strolling amongst the human fraternity. The walk seemed to be circular and we could see for miles. We went past runners, riders, walkers, other dogs and even other dogs with walkers. We got to the top of the hill, checked out the trig point and then started a descent and were abruptly halted as there were ponies in our way. Not that it mattered as we directed our parents along the path toward the little copse of trees and then out into the open where we overlooked Findon and Worthing.

I wonder if our friends can see us?

It all seemed quite small and far away. I was puffing and panting like a steam train so we made sure to stop a few times to top up on water. Then I heard the worst words a beagle can hear, “I think thats enough excitement for one day for a senior beagle. I think if he keeps on going at this rate, he’s going to do himself another injury”. And with that the fun was over. We retraced our path and descended to the car park, albeit via slightly different route so we could get some final sniffs.

Within two minutes of being in the car we were both snoozing in our travel crates and we returned home for breakfast. Our fun was finished. We slept and dreamed of more shenanigans to come.