Sue Woodcock: Welcome visitors for the holiday, and others who need manners

I WAS expecting guests and this prompted a tidy-up in the kitchen and the need to get out some fresh bedding.

I was not pleased to discover that Boo had found it first and chewed holes through at least one sheet and two pillowcases. I think the cardboard packaging was irresistible.

Then I hit the shops getting in essential supplies. Armed with good food and some more bedding I got home, cleared out the freezer and re-stocked it.

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The dogs did very well on the old contents once I had cooked them up. Then they lay in the sunshine digesting their feast while I got the front bedroom sorted and looking almost tidy.

I popped down to the village where stalls were selling mainly furniture and upmarket jumble.

I got for not a lot of money three children’s sleeping bags which the dogs think are great for lying on. They are of a size I can easily wash and will be warm when it gets cold.

I also acquired some toys for the dogs and for the rest of the day there was a cacophony of squeaks, grunts, giggles and squabbling. It makes a change from the sound of ripping bedding I suppose.

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My guests, a good caving friend and his son, arrived and the next day had a substantial breakfast before the lad was riding his mini off-road bike round my fields with gusto.

We managed to fix a broken fuel line and he was off again much to the fascination of a number of passing walkers who watched with interest from the gate.

After a hefty lunch and more motorcycling and a lot of chat they headed off down south and I prepared for an extra Street Angels patrol for the bank holiday. There were many noisy but largely good natured youngsters in town and eventually I made it home.

This is a very busy time for the Dales. Hosts of walkers and holidaymakers enjoy the countryside we offer and the excellent food and hospitality that the local hostelries excel in.

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Grassington is full of visitors and it takes ages to wend my way down the main street. I have met some great people (and their dogs).

The country lanes are thick with cars and it can be very frustrating when a car at the front of the queue brakes for every bend and stops without warning if a rabbit appears or a sheep wanders into view.

Then there are the larger vehicles such as caravans and camper vans. I have had to reverse some distance several times this week because the driver either cannot move over or give way.

A few ignore passing places and drive at you glaring as if you had not right be on their road. Some of them have no idea how to reverse their vehicles.

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Most of the locals are sensible and almost always acknowledge you if you pull over to let them pass. It is called good manners. It is a pity that a few motorists try to bully their way past you and are downright rude. It may be the norm in the cities, but round here we are a civil society.

To be shouted at to “Get out of my way, I want to get through!” is unlikely to produce bonhomie, especially when it is my driveway they are obstructing.

With a gracious peacekeeping tolerance I got out of the way. I don’t do road rage. This particular motorist got to the dead end of the road and a few minutes later was angrily driving back down it to be met with a tractor and then had to reverse. I allowed myself a wry smile, or was it a smirk, as I watched. I think the irate motorist saw me. At least I hope she did.

The sun has come out and the hills are bathed in a golden glow but this is backed by a dark cloud making a strark contrast with the sunlit trees are almost iridescent against the sombre black of the sky.

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It is at times such as this that I relish my surroundings and realise just how lucky I am.

My cats are perched on top of the stone walls like white flags in front of an amber carpet of grass and reeds gently waving in the wind.

Having heard me call them for their evening meal they are prancing across the top stones of the walls in a race to see who can get the most to eat.