The day after we got back from our holiday, a great deal of excitement came racing into our lives.


Everyone, meet Tilley.


She is a 12 week old English Springer Spaniel who will first and foremost be our family pet.  When she’s older, she will be taken beating on a local syndicate shoot.

She’s certainly got spirit.


She likes to grab hold of life, and then take it for a run around the garden.  The same applies to sticks, stones and slippers.


At the moment,  life is about play.  Playing with toys, playing with people, and playing with the cats…  Sometimes we train her, or she eats or sleeps.   But mostly every day is one big game to learn from.


At the beginning of May we unfortunately lost our previous Springer, Bramble.  He died too young, very suddenly, and it was a massive shock to all of us.  I miss him dearly.


This little lady certainly has big boots to fill, but I’m certain she’ll try her absolute hardest, and have a great time doing so.  If she’s even half as amazing as Bramble was, then she’ll be great.




Something about a Spaniel

Since I’ve been home from Derbyshire I’ve taken over walking the dog on the days that mum’s at work (and some of the days she isn’t) and consequently have been spending quite a lot of time with this chappy.

Bramble in wood

He’s more than happy to pose for a photo (provided he gets a piece of gravy bone every time the shutter goes) and therefore he’s taken over from Chatsworth’s sheep and deer herds to be the subject of a lot of my photography.

He gets a lot of attention from people we see on walks, to whom he gives a cursory glance and trots on by.  They greet him like an old friend ‘Oh, hello! Look at you!’ but he really couldn’t be less bothered, unless they were waving a steak at him, then he might take notice!  It’s because there’s something about a spaniel, with their floppy ears and kind temperament.


One of our favourite walks circles a village close to town, and incorporates woodland, open fields and a pond to paddle in (we don’t chase sticks, we throw gravy bones into the water to be paddled too).

Below is the flying tree.



Of course, this sort of clowning around is only tolerated if there is a large supply of gravy bones. Otherwise, frankly, it’s not worth his effort to even think about it.