Danny says: "Meanwhile, back at the Ranch".
By now we were fairly well settled in Breighton. The quarter was large and comfortable; with a large garden and surrounding farmland, it was ideal for Mary (now 3 years old, and with the stabilisers off her bike) and a lively little terrier to play with. We fell into a routine. I would go off to Linton in the Isetta (except for night flying), leaving the 403 to Mrs D. to go shopping in the village (Bubwith), or to Selby (8 miles), once or twice to Howden (5 miles), and sometimes to York (15 miles).
On first moving in, we found that our mattress in the bedroom had a delve so that Mrs D. and I tended to roll together in the middle. We didn't mind this at all, but our sleep patterns were becoming disrupted by this circumstance, so I put in a demand for a replacement to the Barrack Warden at Linton. For some reason that I cannot now recall, we could have a new mattress - no problem at all. The only difficulty was: he couldn't get any transport to get it out to us. DIY seemed the only solution.
Once again it fell to my lot to provide entertainment to the good burghers of York as they witnessed the spectacle of our 403 going through with a double mattress (in plastic cover, luckily) lashed precariously to the roof rack. Of course, the overhang front and rear gave the impression of a giant mushroom and restricted my vision to a certain extent. However, it didn't fall off and the mission was successfully accomplished.
One morning (I don't know how it happened), I went off with the Isetta with the (only) garage door key in my pocket. And of course with the 403 inside the said garage ! After exhausting the possibilities of every Yale key she could find, Mrs D. set out to pick the lock. For this purpose she chose a very small rat-tail file I had in the house (and was rather fond of), and set to work.
Of course it was inevitable. She was still locked out, but now with about 3/16in of broken file jammed in the lock. When I returned at lunchtime (for of course I couldn't abandon my ATC watch to take the key back), and the recriminations had subsided, I set to work with my trusty Black & Decker (luckily in the house) to drill the lock barrel out - the task not made any easier by the chunk of tool steel in the way. Eventually I succeeded, a new lock would not break the bank, and all was harmony once more.
Per contra, I returned one lunchtime to find I hadn't the house key, and they'd all gone out to the shops. I reconnoitred the house carefully - sure enough a side kitchen window wasn't quite closed. Rather more supple and agile then than I am now, I climbed in onto the (cleared) draining board, and into the kitchen. No crockery broken. Meanwhile our brave watch-dog contented herself with doing just that - watching carefully with cocked head without uttering a sound. "Fat lot of use you are !", I told "Sally", "what do we pay you for ?"
In truth she was not a valiant animal. One of our walks took us round a corner by a farm. I think it was arable, but as an anti-rat measure they had a trio of farm cats. And these were not the gentle, lovable pussies you see on the catfood ads. "Sally" was terrified of them, and with good reason. For that matter, I didn't like the look of them much myself: we crossed over to the far side of the lane as we went past, and "Sally" (otherwise not a particularly obedient dog) would hug my heels, making herself as small and unobtrusive as possible, and carefully keeping me between herself and these creatures. None of the three were particularly prepossessing, but the "Boss Cat" (an enormous, shaggy, long-haired tortoiseshell brute) looked fully capable of ripping - and more than willing to rip - my jugular out at a single claw-stroke.
Not all the local fauna were so alarming. One morning we awoke to find a donkey quietly grazing the front "lawn". It was a gentle animal (might possibly have been resting from summer duty on Scarborough or Bridlington sands). Obviously well looked after, it was docile and amenable, and accepted a carrot with good grace.
"Shoo !" we said. It turned sad eyes on us and stood its ground, making it perfectly clear that it would co-operate in every way but one - it wouldn't move an inch ! But we got on to the local constabulary: it seemed that this animal was well known locally for going AWOL and sampling front lawns in this way. I had to go on watch, when I got back the owner had collected it (with apologies).
Goodnight, all.
Danny42C.
"The Lord God made them all", (but the Devil slipped one or two in when He wasn't looking).
Last edited by Danny42C; 7th Apr 2014 at 00:35.
Reason: Spacing.