Le Tour de Angus

I have a question for you.

If your human takes you round to neighbour Kirsty's house at the crack of dawn after loading her bicycle in to the car, then she returns ten hours later, tired but euphoric, does the fact that while away she took a couple of photos of dog memorials make it all OK?

So it seems that last Thursday Gail and four of her cycling friends had agreed to meet up in Montrose, 40 miles south of Aberdeen, and spend the day riding around the quiet roads of the Angus region of Eastern Scotland, first heading down the coast to Arbroath (famous for its Declaration and its Smokies), on to Carnoustie (golf) then inland to Forfar (Bridies) before arriving back at the beach car park in Montrose.

In cool and blustery conditions these five ladies reached Forfar early afternoon and, fortified by this town's renowned culinary offering of greasy minced beef enclosed in shortcrust pasty, they then completed the final 20 miles of their 66 mile circuit. 

Oh, you want to see the dog memorials?

First we have Bamse the St Bernard, heroic mascot of the free Norwegian Forces, who served on a minesweeper during World War Two and died right here on the dockside in Montrose on 22nd July 1944.

And further down the coast, in East Haven, just north of Carnoustie, this memorial celebrates the brave Airedale terriers who carried wounded men and messages on the frontline in the First World War. I wonder how my Airedale friends Molly and Ruby would take to wearing a gas mask? (I fear Ruby would find imbibing her favourite margarita tipple a bit tricky...)

Well when Gail showed me these photos I'll admit I did at least in part forgive her (after all I had enjoyed a lovely day with Kirsty). Do you think I did right?

Bertie displays his competitive streak...

(The scene: a Saturday morning walk on Morven, our favourite Aberdeenshire hill)

So come on Gail, don't waste time looking at that boring old flower, we have a hill to climb!

Bertie, it is a cloudberry flower, and not boring at all. My book says the cloudberry plant is 'shy flowerer' in Britain. Anyway, what's the hurry?

Well Gail, we don't want that group of four men and one Labrador, who left their car just after we did, to overtake us, do we now? 

Bertie, frankly I couldn't care less. This is not a competition. Don't be so 'male' about it all. Just savour the moment, being out in our wonderful landscape on a fine midsummer day. To quote Nan Shepherd "... the mountain gives itself most completely when I have no destination, when I reach nowhere in particular, but have gone out merely to be with the mountain as one visits a friend with no intention but to be with him". And anyway, I think the Lab party took a different, less direct route up.

Er, yes Gail, of course, of course. Look, there's the summit, let's race!

Oh god, I'm having a flashback to childhood outings with my brother....

And now we're at the top, and the other group is nowhere in sight. Hooray! We won!

(Gail sighs).

(15-20 minutes later)

OK Bertie, that's enough of a break, time to move on, it's getting chilly.

No, no, no, look here are the others, finally! Maybe you can find out the name and age of the Lab? I bet he's younger than me.

(Gail talks to the humans while the dogs size each other up).

Well Bertie, you are right, 'Angus' is only two years old. Although I surmise that the accompanying humans are considerably older. But guess what? Angus's owner is most impressed at how quickly we ascended the steeper of the two routes up the hill. Happy now?

Totally happy, Gail, totally.

An interesting story.....

...about today's European Union elections.

Hold on readers, bear with me!

You might say it's really about the surprising and sometimes delightful connections we can make through blogging.

It all started with a post on one of our very favourite blogs. Scotsman Angus lives in deepest France and blogs in a consistently engaging fashion about life with his Polish Lowland Sheepdogs Bob and Sophie and much else besides.

Now you may already be aware that across Europe today (Thursday), elections to the European Parliament are taking place. On Tuesday Angus posted some photos of French election posters, and Gail responded by commenting that here in Scotland she had received lots of election leaflets through the door, but regrettably none from the solidly pro-EU Liberal Democrat Party.

You'll never guess what happened later that day.

Early evening Gail and I answered a knock on the door. (I did not bark, I am not that kind of terrier.)

We were greeted by a lady with a smiling face and a fistful of Lib Dem leaflets.

So much, so unremarkable, I hear you thinking.

But then...

She announced herself not only as the lead candidate for the Scottish Liberal Democrats in the current EU election, but also as an avid fan of both my blog and Angus's. She had seen Gail's comment on Angus's blog, done a spot of detective work and identified our address, and hastened round in person to rectify the shortfall in Lib Dem election material.

What a star!

Oh she said such nice things about my blog too, I think Gail would be voting for her party even if she hadn't already been intending to.

We do hope she is elected and has the opportunity to remain an MEP for a very long time to come....

It seems Angus is right about French customer service

Apologies to those readers who do not follow Bob and Sophie's French Adventure. (But really, why don't you? It's brilliant).

For several years now, Gail and I have been hooked on transplanted Scotsman Angus's account of life in rural France and the antics of his Polish lowland sheepdogs, but I have to confess, we have occasionally wondered if Angus was being a bit unfair in his implied criticisms of the local attitude to customer service.

Now, ever since she returned from her Jura holiday, Gail has been going on and on and on about what a wonderful time she had in France, especially when she met up with Bicontinental Dachshund Tootsie (my doggy godmother) and her family.

But yesterday, she let slip that there was one incident of slight unpleasantness, amusing in retrospect, but which supports the impression given by Angus's blog.

So Gail and Tootsie and her Mom and Dachshund Daddy had arrived at their accommodation in Mouthe, 'Le Chalet de la Source du Doubs' mid afternoon on Good Friday. By then the weather has turned quite nasty. On entering the chalet they were promptly pushed back out into the cold by a cross young woman telling them not to wake the baby. After a short while, Dachshund Daddy, a fluent French speaker, braved re-entry only to be ushered outside again the proprietress who grumpily pointed to a chalkboard by the front door and said: "You speak the language. So read the sign!"

And yes indeed, there it was, a sign giving instructions for new arrivals.

But how hard would it have been to say a few words of welcome to the guests and tell them which bedrooms they were in?

You know, my adorable godmother Tootsie has quite short furs, and it upsets me to think she was forced to wait around in the chilly weather by this not so friendly person.

Tootsie, if you came to visit me in Scotland, you would be embraced with open arms. And paws.