Hello, Biggles here.
We’re all safely home from our trip to the Peak District. It’s a National Park in the middle of England that has lots of hills and moorland, and rock outcrops and caves. And farms and woods and stately homes and other places of interest. Mummy told us where she went every day and it sounded interesting, but only the kitchen garden at Chatsworth sounded really nice. The Farm Shop in the village near us was good too, but we gave that a taste test.
I have to say, the journey there was horrible. I don’t mind never going there again, even though it was fine coming back. Mummy was talking to the lady who gives her directions a lot. The lady started giving her even more directions when we finally stopped being stationary for ages, then moving a little and then being stationary for ages. We had two long long bouts of that, and a few short ones, then she followed the voice lady all the way to our destination. The lady said ‘you have arrived at your destination’, and Mummy said ‘oh, no we haven’t.’
Then she turned the car around in a very small space, and went back down the hill we’d just come up. Then we went up another hill, a really, really steep one. I was a bit worried about that because we sort of tipped to the back of our boxes, but it felt quite safe. Then there were some huge turns where we seemed to be going back on ourselves, but we were still going up so we must have been above the road we came up on. Then the third of these turns we changed the road sound, and we’d arrived at the farm where Mummy had booked a cottage.
And after Mummy had set up our holiday cages and run, we could unpack and relax.
It was nearly dark when we arrived, so we didn’t have much except cucumber for supper and a carrot for breakfast the next day. But Mummy went out to the Chatsworth Estate Farm Shop the next morning and brought us back some veggies, which were really nice. She brought herself back some cheese and bread which she said was very nice, including some of the cheeses she only used to get at the Farm Shop in Norfolk where the nice man used to give George & co extras. He’d closed by the time we lived with Mummy. She also got some small Bakewell Tarts for her puddings. Bakewell was the town at the bottom of the very very steep hill.
Later that day she went for a walk on the eastern moors, which she said she needed to do to stretch her muscles for the day after. That was Sunday, when she was competing for her orienteering club in a big competition north of Sheffield, about an hour away. So Sunday she was away all day, but we had fresh carrots with tops and fresh beetroot tops and fresh cucumber from our garden, and something else to keep us occupied–lettuce, of course! And rocket, too.
Mummy came home very tired and stiff, but pleased because she’d done quite well, and it turned out she’d earned some points for the club. But they didn’t win. They weren’t last either, so that sounds good.
The next day was wet, so we couldn’t go out, and Mummy went out to see some caves that she’d always wanted to see. Then Tuesday she went to look at Chatsworth House and its Gardens, and she said the Kitchen Garden was fabulous and we’d love it there. Wednesday she did another walk she wanted to do, over on the west side of the area, and climbed up some rocks after the heavy rain went past and the sun came out. It was cold and windy, though, after lots of mild weather.
After a bit of discussion that night, we agreed we’d go home early, on Thursday, as it was getting colder, although it was due to be sunny, and we would hopefully miss the traffic jams we’d had the previous Friday. And we wouldn’t have to rush to be out of the cottage and leave it all clean with no hay hiding anywhere. So we did that and had an easy drive home.
The only problem was, we ate the last of the cucumber on the way home, and Mummy had none to give us for our night-time treat. She went out and picked us some lavender instead. And there was none on Friday morning either, until she’d been to the shop. As our veggie box was due that evening, and cucumber wouldn’t be in it, she bought two cucumbers. Then, when the box arrived, it had a cucumber after all, so now we can eat as much cucumber as we like!
So that was our holiday, and Mummy said that next time we’re not going further than the Isle of Wight. That sounds interesting, doesn’t it!
Ludo is going to try his hand at blogging next week. I’ll see you the week after.