Mr Raz and I are spending the weekend at his sister and brother-in-law’s In Hinderwell on the North Yorkshire coast, and of course my running kit was the first thing to be packed.
After a fairly raucous evening I had enough presence of mind to get everything ready for the morning so that I could sneak out early for a run without waking Mr R. At 6.30 I was awake and raring to go, kitted out in record time and without disturbing the slumbers of my very own Sleeping Beauty (ok maybe the consumption of one or two beverages 🍷 🥂 meant that he was more sleeping and less beauty).
I crept down the stairs on tip toe and realised that,unlike in my house where the front door can be opened without a key, there were two locked doors between me and my potential run. After a few minutes of scrabbling around I eventually located a key and managed to unlock the first door to the porch. But the front door stood proudly in my way, the lock refusing to budge. I looked around for another key, but all I found was a gremlin, whispering in my ear, “You’re locked in... held captive...! You might as well go back to bed and wait for your captor’s to wake up.”
Was I starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome?
No! Having avoided a hangover, and had a PB for the time to get togged up, I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from running. Maybe I could escape through the kitchen to the garden and then out. But I had forgotten to take into account the two dogs who stood guard not unlike Cerberus the three headed dog guarding the underworld (or Fluffy, the drooling three headed dog guarding the Philosopher’s Stone in Harry Potter).
Opening the door to the kitchen unleashed the full strength of their enthusiasm to see a possible provider of breakfast, but I managed to step through them and faced the back door. Also locked and with no key in sight. Time was ticking by and my Mojo was keen to get me out and running. The thought of crawling out through the dog flap crossed my mind, but as I crouched to look through it Rufus and Fergus thought this was some kind of show of affection, and decided to reciprocate by attempting to cover me in slobber.
Eventually I located the key for the back door hung on a magnet attached to the fridge , but the back garden gate was bolted and if I let myself out, I would also be allowing my slobbering canine acquaintances the same freedom I was wanting for myself. So I had two choices... give up and go back to bed, “Go on, you know you want to,” urged my gremlin. Or awaken the Sleeping Beauty and ask for his assistance. I decided on the latter course of action; awakening him with a Disney like kiss was not included in my escape plan, however he was soon awake and more like one of the 7 dwarves (Grumpy) than a Princess and obliging me in letting me out through the gate while holding back the dogs who misguidedly thought it was an opportunity for a free walk.
At last, after half an hour of faff, I had gained my freedom as was headed up towards the cliff and onto the Cleveland Way. It was blowing a gale and the path was muddy and slippery, so it was very slow going, especially as I didn’t want to risk being blown off the edge of the cliff. But the view down to Runswick Bay as the morning light brightened was magical.
)
No Gremlins on the canal this morning!
The best of both worlds..... 🌊⛵️🌳🌲
