There may have been rain in the rest of the West, but it stayed away from the lovely Cerne valley till we got off the hills and started our cream tea (under umbrellas). 18 lovely Bassets came from Plymouth and the Rhonda, Shropshire and Wiltshire and sundry other places to battle with damp oil-seed rape fields - my shorts have dried out now thank you - and up and down a few modest slopes.

Everyone got on as well as ever. No hounds were lost, though my Moppet decided to go off and hunt a pheasant in the darkest depths of a rape field - why is it always my Hound?

And our age range was lowered somewhat by the welcome inauguration of five month old Amber (baby not Basset) to our company. Just hope she won't mind seeing herself on YouTube when she's a strapping lass.

Gay striding out, as ever.

Mark's lovely pair: Georgie and Mabel (they both go flying).
(photos above by Guy)

Descending Giant's Hill

Safe at the bottom

Worn out?

Upper Cerne Manor: reputedly owned by the Austrian ambassador. Pity the gate was not accidentally left open - what a place to let the pack romp

Peaceful lunch stop (photos above by Guy)

Not far now.