You’re never far from a splash of rain in Wales. To digress, I may have mentioned I am a member of the Worshipful Company of Loriners.
Had I joined the W Company of Leathersellers I would have known what to do when Bertie’s collar got wet. Loriners only know about the metal bits of harness, like bits and stirrups. Fortunately my host is well-versed in country matters and introduced me to Ko-Cho-Line, leather dressing, By Appointment to Her Majesty the Queen.
It is a thick, pinkish unguent that I worked into the leather until it was supple. I only remember saddle soap in the harness room at Barmeath but I suppose there must have been something similar to bring the tack back up to scratch after a wet day hunting.
Yesterday we went to an old limestone quarry that has been made into a nature reserve. This is an interesting feature that I had not seen before, even in Ireland.
It looks like a grassy meadow now but later in the year will be covered in about three metres of water. Having pondered this miracle of nature we repaired to a pub for home-made suet pudding and a glass of pinot noir served by a buxom landlady who honoured me by calling me “my pet”. I used to be addressed as “petal” by the manageress at Peter Dominic in Durham.
I am not surprise that you were welcomed so affectionately at Peter Dominic. If I remember correctly you were a very good customer.
“Petal” and “Pet” were extraordinarily common in NE England when I was a boy in the 1960s & 1970s. My Good Lady Wife is not from that part of the world and finds it both cloying and irritating, which I have never managed to explain to her is the wrong attitude for these sorts of things.