MRS TURNBULL GOES TO TEES.

What a long time we spent in that moving box they call car with only the briefest of interludes to stretch my legs and pee. And boy, did I need to pee! It's all this cold weather, I just nip outside for a couple of minutes and the urge comes on.
Amazingly even though she and I were travelling from Pembrokeshire and he was going to Eaglescliffe from Felixstowe we all arrived at exactly the same time.
We stayed in a smart hotel that had a grand staircase and thick carpets with a bright pattern you could lose your shoes in. Well, I can't because I don't wear shoes but they can.
When we got into the room I immediately smelled biscuits and some kind person had put them  on a tray with cups and things in a cupboard down near the floor. Well, I was in there like Flynn but no sooner had I knocked over all the cups to get at the biscuits than he started yelling and removing the whole tray from under my very nose.
She then made herself some tea using the tray which I am sure was meant for me. She put the remains in the waste paper basket - I leapt in quickly and ate them before she could stop me. Apparently it was something called teabag - very soggy and stringy. After that they put the bin right up on top of the wardrobe. We did lots of visiting and the weather was bitter not like warm wet Wales at all. Luckily she had packed my fleecy coat. On the last night we went out for dinner - delicious but I fail to see why I got so little of it. They ate nearly the lot, venison, pheasant, cheese, lemon tarts and all. Back at the hotel I was quite tired after my evening out and where I had got used to the sliding doors that opened in front of me without needing any pushing I made a mistake and tried to walk through the plain glass bit at the side. There was quite a bang when my forehead connected with the glass and my head rang for some time afterwards. But I soon went to sleep - snoring again, them not me, oh no not me - and the next day we went home again.

Here's a picture of me (and him) on Fylingdales moor in Yorkshire. Quite breathtaking it was, and oh such fascinating scents to follow.

Mrs Turnbull goes to France

Another adventure for me, Mrs Turnbull. It’s been a long time but I have been a busy old pooch. I went to France with my people. See my passport. Yes, France. Just imagine me going through the tunnel all the way there. They woke me up specially to tell me to look so I did - for 5 seconds but it was dead boring, nothing to see but the sides of the truck we were in so I sank back down into my comfy bed. We stayed the first night in someone’s house, a friend of theirs. All I can say is that it smelled of cats but I wasn’t allowed near them. And I had to stay in a bedroom with my people. They accused me of snoring which maybe I do a little but you should hear them. We drove all the way down through France even going through Paris. Yes, Gay Paris. But I couldn’t see anything exciting about it. Just one big traffic jam that we crawled through. We eventually arrived at our destination in the Dordogne. Lovely - lots of sunshine, not like Wales. I  even went for a bit of a swim in the big river but then I got into trouble because I put my nose in the bait bucket of some fisherman who had no sense of humour at all. 

We went to a big castle built by Richard the Lionheart as a true English dog I stood proudly on those ramparts. And I loved the cafés - I could really get used to this French way of life. See my photos. 

Then on the way home when we arrived at the tunnel we saw a notice saying we had to go to pet reception so we turned right as shown and found all the way there was marked by giant paw prints on the road. I am glad we didn’t meet that dog in there, even I would have been afraid.