A Visit from Skippy

by Anne Rothwell

Things weren’t going too well. I realised when we were well on our way on the motorway that the car didn’t seem to be responding as it normally did. However, we managed to complete the motorway section and continued west. Somewhere between Corwen and Bala, things rapidly went downhill. Eventually we were crawling and down to first gear (and no, I hadn’t forgotten to fill it with petrol) when, by great good fortune, we came to a garage. On inspection, we were informed that we needed a new clutch and couldn’t have the car for 24 hours. As we were only going away for 2 nights, this was something of a blow. We managed to persuade them to rent us an old car which was parked there and continued on our way. We’d booked our B&B online. We left the main road and travelled for some distance along a minor country road. Then we left this road and turned on to a very much more minor road -- single track and with no apparent passing places. We had to go for a few miles along here, but, not surprisingly, met no-one. Halfway along we found our farm B&B.
We entered the yard, which was very muddy, due to recent rain and looked somewhat cluttered with horseboxes etc. A very aggressive-looking border collie shot out from somewhere, barking ferociously, but as dog lovers, this did not worry us unduly.
A grey-haired lady came out of the front door and introduced herself as Jean. She asked whether we liked animals and we said yes. Whereupon, she asked us whether we liked sheep and we replied yes, all animals. Then her daughter Isabel came out of the house, hair standing on end and looking as though she’d just been having a romp in the hay. We went inside into the kitchen and were confronted by a large, big-horned ram. At least this explained the sheep reference. This was Skippy, their pet. I’m sure he was very cute as a little orphaned lamb.

There was no lounge - the large chaotic kitchen was where we ate and they sat. We entered our room with some trepidation, but it was very pleasant and our evening meal was excellent home cooking. While we were eating, Isabel said she was off to see her significant other, who lived 7 miles away, along the single track road, which she said would take her 7 minutes. 
        
Jean was outside seeing to the animals, when suddenly, there was a tremendous noise as Skippy, who was outside, started violently butting the glass kitchen door. Before I could get up and open it, he burst in, then ran round in a circle next to me, spraying ‘currants’ from his rear. Wow, good thing I’m not squeamish!

First published in VISA issue 77 (Feb 2008)