The first Saturday in September has been for many a generation, the date for the Harbottle Show. This local country show has been a destination for me for many more years than I'd care to remember. I can't recall the first time here but I’d have been only shoulder height to a blackface sheep. Over the years I've come here and watched the sheepdog trials (now held later in the month), the children’s races and like today, a special wish of Julie's, to watch men in underpants wrestling. Okay this isn't quite true. I'm talking about Cumberland Wrestling. Sadly today after waiting for nearly two hours the wrestling was just juveniles and under 12 stone journeymen wrestlers in tracksuits. Why no long-john clad underpants wielding wrestlers today? Well last night there was a 'big event' down the valley at Rothbury. A qualifying event involving the best in Northern England took place at the Mart. Scheduled to finish at 10pm, apparently it ended at 5am in a lively fist fight between two locals. That's the Coquet Valley for you. And so to placate Julie for this lack of brief encounter we wobbled up to Drake Stone, a huge erratic sandstone on top of the moors to stretch the legs. And that is an altogether another story. It’s nice up there. Silent and remote. I like.
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