WAGS 28.03.2018: Bensafrim, Bárbaro and bifanas.

Myriam and I were en route to UK by road, staying in Leon in fact, when this walk took place, and I thought I was going to have a break from creative blogging, but a day or two later the missive below arrived from Rod who was overcoming a nagging upper thigh pain to keep things going on the walks.
      I did get my break, as I had no useful computer to post this, but saved it until now, back in Lagos, where I have a full electronic facility.
      This is mainly for record purposes rather than literary and aesthetic merit, and photographic enhancement is notably absent.
The report, track and stats:-

Magnificent day when Ingrid, Janet, Frank, Peter, Tony, Terry & Jill and Rod,  plus assorted hounds, met up at the Bensafrim Market Square Cafe for an only slightly tardy 10.15 start. 

Sadly no one  was ready or willing to take pics so all will have to be left to imagination. In the event this was a great pity since rarely have we had so many foto opportunities...and only a few of these were of  artistic mode. 

That the riverbeds were full and flowing after recent rains soon became apparent as we found the mighty river flowing through Bensafrim threatened to dampen feet and ardour before we had hardly started!

As we approached the entrance to Jinny Harman's equine establishment out zoomed a white van bearing the effervescent Paulo the Brazilian blacksmith  who used to attend to the pedicure of Rod's horse. As a matter of but scant interest to most readers he also claims to be an accomplished bagpipe player...or perhaps rather a "gaitero"  as the instruments are a wee bit different!  This necessitated a prolonged pause while Rod  and Paulo  caught up on stable scandal. At this point three young belles on steeds emerging from the driveway so excited Peter that he tripped and fell flat on his face....it was his knee that suffered the damage but a hastily produced tourniquet and plaster rapidly stemmed the blood loss and we were on our way.

It was clear that there was too much water in the river to contemplate a crossing  so we were obliged to remain on the west bank. Well most of us did anyway until Shelley, Frank's hound, way out of his depth, became attached to a trailing bramble on the far bank and was obviously and noisily  fraught.  Frank started disrobing to go to the rescue but hardly had he removed a boot, when Tony, fully clothed and shod , plunged through the raging torrent to the other side and returned clutching the obviously grateful Shelley. We are not yet aware of what award Frank  bestowed on Tony but he should certainly be mentioned in Kennel Club dispatches.

The rest of the walk, of but modest length, was completed uneventfully. 

We repaired to the Barbero Cafe, still enthusiastically run by the same people who took it over shortly before  our previous visit. It was generally agreed that the standard of tostas, bifanas and service was right up amongst the top.