It’s our tradition to always take the dogs for a proper trot on Christmas Day. Last year, because of the deep snow, Emily & I took the dogs out for a four mile-r before lunch before it got too cold in the lengthening shadows, but this year we decided to do it afterwards, as the weather was so mild. And, of course, it helped work off the roast goose, potatoes, bread sauce, apple sauce, red cabbage, stuffing and St Julien.
My mother moved house in August, so we have a whole different set of walks to learn in this part of south Northamptonshire, and today, all Hunter-ed up, we headed for the village of Eydon, and the public footpath that runs past the 18th century village stocks (Really. Picture at bottom) through the ground of Eydon Hall.
I eyed up the glorious Eydon Hall:
Whilst I was lost in Austen/Heyer-esque reveries, Chloe strode ahead:
Madam kept up valiantly:
I taught P Bad how to get through a lych gate, and I got to climb over several stiles in my accustomed stylish manner:
(I’ll spare you the photo with my bum in the air as I got stuck on the top.) I finally got P Bad to cross a stream – she normally hates bridges. Chloe standing at the end was probably a spur.
I had always presumed that these stocks on the Green by the entrance to the Hall were a modern pastiche, but today I finally read the English Heritage plaque attached to them. They are believed to date from the 18th century, and were last used to calm down a Waterloo pensioner who used to get blind drunk every time he picked up his pension.
Eydon church, hard by the Hall.