Lost around Falling Foss.

Wake at three with Louis roving around the bed in his sleep and kicking the duvet off, for about the third time. Grab a spare duvet from the airing cupboard and sleep on the sofa in the lounge until six, when Louis wakes me asking if it's time for breakfast. I tell him to go back to sleep for half an hour but relent after ten minutes and get up anyway. We let Norman out and then give him his breakfast first before cooking a full English for Louis, whilst I have cream cheese and smoked salmon on brown toast. Louis eats all the sausage, bacon, and most of his egg but donates the egg white, toast and beans to Normy, who receives it gratefully. So much for me slimming him down! After breakfast I run Louis a bath and he plays happily, whilst I wash, shave, and dress and then retrieve him from the bath and dry and dress him also. By now it is eight o'clock and we have just time to take Norman down to the bridge, before ferrying Louis back home. Norman obliges with a poo, and this morning I let Louis pick it up and carry it to the bin, he makes a good job of it. He is learning, that you always feed your animals first and you always toilet them afterwards. I drop him at Sarah's around a quarter to nine, with a commendation for his behaviour and help with Norman and yesterday's gardening. His mum is suitably impressed! Then drive up the coast road to Scarborough to meet my cousins Irene and Michael and her husband David, at their flat overlooking North Bay. It is a lovely morning and the traffic is light until I get into Scarborough itself, nevertheless I arrive on time, at ten and park by the flat. They arrive from York a few minutes later and David piles us all in his car to drive to Falling Foss waterfall near Whitby. When we get there, half an hour later, we descend down a steep path to the waterfall, which tumbles some 20 feet into May Beck and is opposite Midge Hall, which has a cafe serving tea and cakes. We sit and drink our tea and coffees with scones, before deciding to follow a tourist trail on a brochure from the cafe. It is a lovely sunny day, but cool down in the wooded valley that May Beck has carved through the North Yorkshire Moors. A number of walkers are completing the coast to coast walk that runs a hundred miles or so, from St Bees Head in Cumberland to Whitby in North Yorkshire. Midge Hall is about five or six miles inland from Whitby. I should have heard alarm bells ring when the little tourist map had no north south orientation and no scale of distance, but we thought its just for kids and can't be too far. It probably wasn't too far but the paths weren't signposted and there were quite a few of them. We ended up walking for three hours and finally navigated our way back to Midge Hall by climbing up a steep road, (1:4) out of the valley to the moor top and then back onto the original metalled entry road. Still it was a good laugh and we were ready for more refreshments by the time we got back. I used to teach mountain survival and map reading in the Army, but in my defence, you can't read what isn't on the map in the first place. After our snack we drove back to Scarborough and parked at the flat around three thirty and then climbed up to Scarborough Castle, before descending to the harbour in South Shore. This is the "kiss me quick", part of the resort and it was heaving with holiday makers. Michael wanted to buy some presents to take back to Germany tomorrow and so somehow we ended up in TK Maxx. Michael didn't buy anything, but David found a track suit top and I bought a very soft, pink, cotton, summer sweatshirt. Michael eventually bought some perfume in another shop and we all arrived at Mother Hubbard's fish and chip cafe for five o'clock. It was surprisingly quiet, all the men had the special, haddock, chips, tea, bread and butter, whilst Irene had the salmon salad. The meals, as ever, were excellent and as we left, an old lady, who looked to be in her eighties and bent double with osteoporosis, struggled up two flights of stairs for her meal. That is quite a recommendation as to the quality and value of the food. I parted ways with my cousins around six, as Michael wanted to walk on the front and I needed to get back to feed Norman. I had left him plenty of water and the door to the garden open, but it is a long time for a little dog to last from breakfast at seven a.m to dinner at seven p.m. The drive home was pleasant, with little traffic, I even found myself beginning to like the wind turbines, that were turning gently in the breeze, as I passed Lisset. Norman was ready for his dinner and after I had fed him, we walked as far as the bridge again, it's about a mile round trip. He deserved more, but I was feeling tired. On the way back he called in at the farm and the stables to say hello to the dogs that live there. He has decided he likes, and is starting to get to know the people and places and their dogs. I think he has decided to stay! When we get back it is time for Rebecca Adlington's 800m freestyle final, this used to be one of my events, so Norman and I watch her win bronze, outswum by a precocious fifteen year old American girl. Later I read the local free sheets and then have an early night. A really lovely day, tomorrow I might start playing catch up on my housework.