Who's not bouncing now?

Well no soon as I was sprung from prison than Gail was insisting on showing me all the photos from her bicycle tour across Wales.

I'm guessing it would be considered disloyal were I to admit that before long I was thinking I might be better off playing with my new friends in 'camp' after all. You know how it can be with someone else's holiday pictures, no matter how fond you are of that person, one can have too much of a good thing...

(And what's more, quelle surprise, there was the usual disappointing lack of 'welcome back' gifts.)

I am hoping that, having agreed to show you a small selection from Gail's photo gallery, avoiding too many distressing shots of lycra clad middle-aged backsides, then this will be end of it...

So it seems the trip started in Bristol (actually in England) where Gail was a student back in the Dark Ages. Before the ride began, Gail spent a nostalgic day revisiting old haunts, including the house in Montpelier where she lived for three years. Did you know that Montpelier, an inner city area of Bristol, was voted the UK's hippest neighbourhood in 2018?

To reach Wales from Bristol, Gail and her London cycling friends crossed two iconic bridges, Brunel's Clifton Suspension Bridge and the 'old' Severn Bridge.

Once in Wales, the group cycled along mile after mile of pretty lanes bordered by hedgerows laced with bluebells, stitchwort, red campion, buttercups and more...

And up and over hills, including the Gospel Pass and Bwlch y Groes, which Gail insists were a lot steeper than they look in the pictures...

Wales is famous for its castles large and small - those pictured below are in Caernarfon and Criccieth.

Wales is also famous for rain, but Gail tells me that, incredibly, apart from a few light showers one morning the weather was dry throughout.

She also says it was quite warm, although the evidence on this point is not entirely convincing...

And yes that is Gail, back right, taking a wee break with some of her companions on the approach to the seaside town of Portmadog, near the end of the trip.

Apparently Wales is great if you like: quiet roads, pretty scenery, castles, sheep, people speaking Welsh, cycling up hills, clean air...

And not so great if you like: breakfast options which include fresh fruit and a decent cup of coffee...

I should also report that since her return Gail has been rubbing her knees quite often and seems a bit less bouncy than usual after the effort of cycling up all those hills!

Oh and by the way, here is a reminder of what I look like, in case you had forgotten.

Prison diaries

Just before dropping me off again at 'camp' the other day, Gail waved a book by Jeffrey Archer in my face in a mildly threatening manner and addressed me thus:

"So Bertie, rather than whinging endlessly about this place you insist on calling prison, why not make good use of your stint 'inside' and write a journal, like other high profile convicts have done? For sure we'll have a blockbuster on our hands before you can say disgraced Tory politician".

Having taken a wee peek at Mr Archer's bestselling effort, I concluded that book buyers can't be such a discriminating bunch as sometimes made out, and I might as well follow Gail's suggestion.

Here goes:

Day 1: Was taken to my cell by a prison officer called Emma, who bolted the door and disappeared. Dogs in neighbouring cells were barking so I decided to join in (although I am usually a quiet chappie).  Was taken out for a brief walk and given some food. Barked some more. Fell asleep eventually.

Day 2: Joined in the canine dawn chorus. Went for an early morning walk with Prison Governor Wendy and fellow inmate Rory the German shepherd. Wendy, a former Scottish track cycling champion, asked me if Gail was away on another bicycle tour. As if I was actually interested in this topic! I growled at Rory then ignored him. Back to cell.  Ate breakfast. Then entered into an 'I'm having the last yap' contest with Lhasa Apso neighbour Freda. I won. Later, am taken out for another walk. Barked some more. Slept some more...

Oh dear.

I like to think I have mastered a range of writing styles, but even I - not always the most self-critical of creatures - can see that this diary is turning into a less than riveting read. Is prison life really so dull? Where are the inmates whose backstories involve gut-churningly gory crimes? How can I provide fascinating insights into the prison's social hierarchy when all I see around me is a bunch of common or garden dogs who bark a lot? As an innocent pup with scientific bent, I am scarcely a candidate for some sensational, life-transforming religious conversion while inside. It's hard even to write about how bad the food is when I'm getting my normal diet, albeit with a slightly restricted supply of gravy bones.

You know what? That Jeffrey Archer fellow had it easy.

Double Standards

So Gail consigns me to prison for over two weeks (and no Madi, it was not ‘camp’ and I did not develop any new craft skills nor learn 'fun' campfire songs) and then she has the temerity to complain that I am “a bit smelly, well actually more than a bit” when she comes to pick me up.

Like she was all fresh as a daisy, still in her travelling clothes and unwashed after a sixteen hour journey overnight.

Oh yes, and worse, when I arrived home I detected a distinct whiff of OTHER DOGS emanating from her dirty laundry bag.

On further enquiry I learned that her American friend Marse lives with these two rescue pups, Josh (part dachshund, part Labrador, so Marse was told) and Liddie (more credibly a corgi/ King Charles spaniel cross).

Gail was apparently not the only person to have observed Josh’s brindle coat and queried the story about his parentage. Another friend of Marse’s had earlier noted that certain of the less scrupulous rescue centres in the USA will tell prospective owners a dog is part lab when they really mean part pit bull…

Anyway, you will pleased to know that both Gail and I are now bathed and groomed, the laundry has been fumigated, and I have reclaimed sole rights to my errant owner.

All dressed up and no place to go

So I saw "Caithness Field Course" marked on Gail's calendar for 17-19 August.

Yippee, another geology field trip! I had so enjoyed the previous jollies educational excursions to Lossiemouth and to the Isle of Skye.



I put on my hand-knitted sweater and searched out my geological hammer and my specially designed hard hat.

I checked the weather forecast and decided a scarf and my new winter jacket might come in handy too. So there I was, all kitted out and raring to go...


...Only to learn that this trip is…..gulp…..how can they do this to me….this is...

A "NO DOG FIELD TRIP"

It gets worse.

Yep. You guessed.

Prison here I come.

Now I know why Gail was being so nice to me last weekend, buying me doggy ice cream at £2.99 at tub, and so on.

Guilt.

I wonder how she can live with herself.

Released!

Happy to be out of jail and enjoying a nice long Easter Monday walk.

I am gratified to be able to report that Gail had a very red face when she finally came to pick me up and take me home from prison 'those nice boarding kennels'.  She did keep insisting that the new skin colour was due to sunburn, but you and I know that it was without doubt a result of the deep embarrassment she was feeling at having so heartlessly abandoned me to go cycling with her London pals for a week.

Now please look carefully at these photos of Gail's bicycle (the red one - to match her face) in France.

Memorial to five times winner of Tour de France, Jacques Anquetil

World War I military cemetery (Hem Farm)

I am quite certain that, like me, you have been struck by just one thought.

Lightly laden is it not?  (The bicycle, that is.)

Space on there for a 7.7 kg / 17 lb wire-haired fox terrier, surely?

Oh. I have just seen one more picture from the trip, depicting the unfortunate outcome of a bicycle on bicycle collision. Well. Perhaps I was better off in Scotland after all...

PS Thank you friends for all the valuable information you provided in your comments to my previous post. My not-to-be-missed lecture on gravity will take place some time next week.

PPS If you want to read an account of Gail's cycling trip, written by a 'proper writer' click here.