Extract from Sunday, 4th January, 1981:

Ihe morning started very bright and sunny, though cold and windy. We (Harris, George, my son and my daughter's boyfriend and me) drove to
Y ^e White Harte and walked to Rice Wood over the fields. We were accosted by an uncouth carl in a van, who insisted that the dogs must be on leads.

As we walked up the road towards Castor Hanglands a violent hailstorm blew up. The hail bowled over the fields in great billows, soaking us so that we were forced to shelter behind the trees. Harris has sworn that it would not rain, and left my spare waterproof in the car. It was noteworthy, however, that he produced his own coat from the deepest recesses of his "orange caravan", and also his "rainy hat". Fie, Harris!

We decided to proceed to Southey Wood with the utmost dispatch, to seek the shelter of the trees. I led the party via a new route, hitherto unknown to the rest. Harris, of course, was most derogatory, and kept insisting that this way or that was better.

Back in Y ^e WhiteHarte:

Harris notes that George's dog is now well trained in George's absence and will walk to heel when under Harris' control, thus proving his superior dog controlling!

Extract from Sunday, 11th January, 1981:

A cold morning with some snow lying on the ground. We drove out to Bedford Purlius and walked theough to the refractory quarry, where we endeavoured to find the new footpath on the reconstituted land. We were evetually forced to return via the same route.

Little of note took place, saving George & Harris having a most enjoyable trip. It happened thus: they were striding out in front of me when Harris' foot caught a fallen bough. This raised its level above that which Bionic George's computer brain had registered as the height necessary for his foot to clear it. As a result or consequence they both plunged forward as a pair & fell on their faces.