"Allo, allo, allo! Wot's goin' on 'ere then?"

The allure of a delightfully acrid aroma stopped me in my tracks as we were crossing Potarch Bridge at the start of our Wednesday afternoon walk*. But Gail, who could see over the bridge parapet, tugged at my lead, saying, "hurry along Bertie, we need to look like we're exercising".

And she explained the scene on the river bank below. Two youngsters, enjoying a picnic in the sun, had just been 'spoken to' by a couple of local police and, given that the youngsters were packing up their things, it seems they had been 'advised' to move on. 

So we crossed hastily into Sluie Woods, and only when well clear of the road did Gail stop muttering under her breath about there perhaps being more effective ways to prevent coronavirus from spreading, and start to relax a bit and enjoy the warm sweet smell of pine resin and the splashes of wildflowers on the trackside verges. 

At the end of the walk, and noting that the police car had gone and no-one else was around, Gail allowed me a wee paddle in the river just upstream of the bridge. 

I do believe she was wishing she could go for a swim herself...

*Gail confesses to stretching the definition of 'local area' a bit for this otherwise fully 'lockdown compliant' hike.

Happy Nature Friday friends! And once again, massive thanks to Arty, Jakey and Rosy for hosting the Blog Hop.

Bertie makes a splash...

Can you believe that Gail has been doubting my swimming ability?

Just because, when I encounter a river, a loch or the sea, I act prudently and choose to keep four paws firmly planted on terra firma.

It is perhaps not so surprising that Gail decided to "conduct an experiment".

So, on Sunday afternoon, the mini heat wave still being enjoyed across the land, I was driven out to Potarch Bridge, a favourite picnic spot on the river Dee.

I was happily scrounging for food and entertaining everyone with my mellifluous voice while Gail went into the river for a swim. After a few minutes of trying but failing to swim upstream against the strong current, she returned to dry land to find me. Her friend Yvonne recorded the subsequent shocking events.

Yes, I was picked up, carried under Gail's arm a few paces into the river, to where the water was quite a bit deeper than I am tall.

Then she let me go!

Well of course I doggy paddled right back to the river bank faster than you could bark "Rebecca Adlington".

Really, the cheek of it. Look at me, my furs all bedraggled.

How does one go about applying for a new owner?


PS The blog will be quiet for the next week as I am going down to Nottingham with Gail to check up on the human grandparents.