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Angela told me to save money and buy bales of hay from the feed merchants out at Holt. In theory it sounded a good idea so long as the tripout there made it worthwhile. Did it really save to drive out there and back with the cost of fuel?
Mark decided to come with me because he wanted to go that way too and show me something in a shop *Thinks West Moors isn't actually on the way, but hey-ho, its just a differant route to the one I planned.
We took the Renault, afterall it needed a long run and it is a French farmers run-around. I've seen all sorts carried in them, including goats!
Mark drove, after the shop we set off again into the lanes of Dorset, which resort to getting twisty and more disoriantaing than you could ever think possible. The signposts are mostly historic, nothing changes to upgrade them. After several junctions I begin to wonder which way Mark is going to get to Wimborne, the main town to where we needed to go. Finally we get to a junction, the sign says Wimborne St Giles to the left (a hamlet north of Wimborne) and Fordingbridge to the right. He begins to turn right,
'Urm, where are you going? This doesn't appear to be the quickest way to Holt.'
'Holt? I'm going to Alderholt, you said Alderholt,'
'If I said Alderholt why would I suggest we also went to Wimborne Market afterwards, when it would be an hour out of our way?'
'I dunno'
The problem is, we are now heading for the feed merchants from the wrong direction so the information on how to get there (from Wimborne) is pretty useless. There is no phone signal, we are lost.
We ask an old lady (she turns out not to be local) we ask a man feeding his sheep, who knew straight away and gives us a short cut, which Mark has reservations about using. We get there, and I now know where we are, after passing a couple of pubs.
So, we park the car next to a tractor and trailer (someone loading large bags) and a lady with a Range Rover and trailer.
'Urm' *Is the Renault going to be the right vehicle for this job, maybe we should have brought the trailer too.
There is the owner, honest to God, sterio-typical, flat cap tweed jacket and trousers held up with string
I ask him about the hay and he starts how he is in short supply because of the poor season and how much did I need.
I asked how he sold it
'£30.00 a quarter ton, is it a horse you have?'
'No, pigs'
'Na- you need straw then'
'No. guinea pigs'
There's this embarrassing silence while he looks at me.
''What did you come here in? I'll get someone to stick a couple of bales in it for you. Do you want some chippings? Keeps the hutches dry. I'll do it for £6.50.'
Meanwhile Mark is watching the lady with the Range Rover have a roll of hay forklifted into the trailer.
Then he sees another roll arrive in the yard.
The lady comes into the shop where I'm paying for my hay.
'Your husband's face is a real picture. He is looking at my hay bale and wondering how he is going to fit one into your car.'
Mark arrives in the shop and I tell him the bales are on their way from the store with a pack of chippings.
'Two bales!'
It all fitted in the car no problem and should last a while.
The storeman then told us if we wanted he could drop any supplies off on a Friday morning free of charge because he came into town with an order and passed our house!
I've seen the Hayters lorry on my day off too!
Really it would have been just have cheap to run up the pet-shop with the time (2 hours) and petrol (No1 son had fueled the car) spent.
On the other hand, it was brilliant whizzing around the country lanes in 'Rene' again
and seeing all those broken down Harleys on the H-D Run out of Bournemouth.
Mark decided to come with me because he wanted to go that way too and show me something in a shop *Thinks West Moors isn't actually on the way, but hey-ho, its just a differant route to the one I planned.
We took the Renault, afterall it needed a long run and it is a French farmers run-around. I've seen all sorts carried in them, including goats!
Mark drove, after the shop we set off again into the lanes of Dorset, which resort to getting twisty and more disoriantaing than you could ever think possible. The signposts are mostly historic, nothing changes to upgrade them. After several junctions I begin to wonder which way Mark is going to get to Wimborne, the main town to where we needed to go. Finally we get to a junction, the sign says Wimborne St Giles to the left (a hamlet north of Wimborne) and Fordingbridge to the right. He begins to turn right,
'Urm, where are you going? This doesn't appear to be the quickest way to Holt.'
'Holt? I'm going to Alderholt, you said Alderholt,'
'If I said Alderholt why would I suggest we also went to Wimborne Market afterwards, when it would be an hour out of our way?'
'I dunno'
The problem is, we are now heading for the feed merchants from the wrong direction so the information on how to get there (from Wimborne) is pretty useless. There is no phone signal, we are lost.
We ask an old lady (she turns out not to be local) we ask a man feeding his sheep, who knew straight away and gives us a short cut, which Mark has reservations about using. We get there, and I now know where we are, after passing a couple of pubs.
So, we park the car next to a tractor and trailer (someone loading large bags) and a lady with a Range Rover and trailer.
'Urm' *Is the Renault going to be the right vehicle for this job, maybe we should have brought the trailer too.
There is the owner, honest to God, sterio-typical, flat cap tweed jacket and trousers held up with string
I ask him about the hay and he starts how he is in short supply because of the poor season and how much did I need.
I asked how he sold it
'£30.00 a quarter ton, is it a horse you have?'
'No, pigs'
'Na- you need straw then'
'No. guinea pigs'
There's this embarrassing silence while he looks at me.
''What did you come here in? I'll get someone to stick a couple of bales in it for you. Do you want some chippings? Keeps the hutches dry. I'll do it for £6.50.'
Meanwhile Mark is watching the lady with the Range Rover have a roll of hay forklifted into the trailer.
Then he sees another roll arrive in the yard.
The lady comes into the shop where I'm paying for my hay.
'Your husband's face is a real picture. He is looking at my hay bale and wondering how he is going to fit one into your car.'
Mark arrives in the shop and I tell him the bales are on their way from the store with a pack of chippings.
'Two bales!'
It all fitted in the car no problem and should last a while.
The storeman then told us if we wanted he could drop any supplies off on a Friday morning free of charge because he came into town with an order and passed our house!
I've seen the Hayters lorry on my day off too!
Really it would have been just have cheap to run up the pet-shop with the time (2 hours) and petrol (No1 son had fueled the car) spent.
On the other hand, it was brilliant whizzing around the country lanes in 'Rene' again
and seeing all those broken down Harleys on the H-D Run out of Bournemouth.![[Image: rhubarb.gif]](http://www.twitchinkitten.com/cmne/albums/userpics/10001/rhubarb.gif)
![[Image: PancakeBunny.jpg]](http://www.twitchinkitten.com/myphotos/PancakeBunny.jpg)
![[Image: timehome2-1.jpg]](http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b113/BarEdul/timehome2-1.jpg)