The rain had mercifully stopped by about one, and that put a stop to the moaning youngsters, who announced that they would be deadly sick by nightfall with their lungs, both from the wet and cold air, and Benny's breath that they had to breath in all the time. I felt the same, but refrained to throw my penny into the armbeurs (something like a purse for the poor), and just sat rigid and cold, trying to breathe as little as possible.
We had to stop a lot for the dogs to run a bit, so we were taking hours to get to Cambletown, the place where we would camp the first night, but we first went into the small Tesco's to try and find some fresh ginger, as there was non to be found on the road.
Once poor old Benny realized that we would not get back into the car immediately, he perked up wondrously, and became his old frisky self, trying to pick fights with every other dog! He was a good pet, but Liz could never take off his leash when there were a probability of other dogs, as this fighting instinct he had was born and bred into him, like a lot of the Yorkies. Stouty was also a Yorkie, but he was the most amiable little soul you could find, but when Benny attacked, he would feel the old instincts waking up, where upon he would join his sibling for the kill! Benny always reminded me of his owner, who was also a nervous wreck all the time, trying to protect her privacy, and very proper, but oh boy, after a few glasses of red she became one snarling, fight lusting inferno!
Late afternoon we went looking for the camping park where we were to put up the huge borrowed tent for the night. That gave up a big struggle, as none of us had ever put up such a large and strange tent before, but we were all in good spirits, even Irma who did not like camping in a tent at all. So after we had a nice old barby, with desert in the form of some wonderful apple pie that we had bought in the town, we sat talking deep into the night with Liz's bottle of red between us.
The tent had two bedrooms on each side of a big middle chamber, I suppose the sitting room, with a small part in front to use as a kitchen. Lovely and big.
The two youngsters were to sleep in one room with Liz, and Irma and self in the other room, but if any one of us had so much as forty winks that night, I would indeed be very surprised! While still sitting talking, we could hear Benny snore away like an old tractor, and the girls's angry voices trying to make him shut up! But if we thought that the poor Benny would be keeping us from our slumbers, we were very wrong!
It started off quite reasonably, but as she fell into a deeper sleep, the soft rumblings that escaped from Liz's throat became ominous, like Vesuvius erupting, and no matter how hard I tried to sleep, the rumblings from the other room, where it seemed like a competition between madam and dog, was just too much!