The bare necessities...

Since we returned from our four week adventure in Scotland, there has been one question asked many times (from me, mostly).  'Where's next?'

I know that there will be a couple of trips down to North Devon to see my cousin who has just taken over a pub, and I'm also sure that the lovely people of Wales will be cursing my back end (or the caravan's more to the point) when we trolley down there again.  But we do have one big trip planned - no caravan required.

I might have said, but Mrs S (best friend one) departed these shores for sunnier climes earlier this year.  Every Tuesday, we have a good old fashioned catch up on my life here (kids, rain, gales, cost of living, putting the heating on) and her life there in California (learning Spanish, Bridge Club, extreme heat, not owning a cardigan, kids and not caring whether she ever sees a pair of black opaque tights again).  We have pencilled in a two week stay with her and her fabulous husband to be. He is ex RAF, so for the purposes of the blog, let's give him the pseudonym of Biggles.  The trip will entail a week in California to check out this new life of hers, and this will be followed up with a week in Montana. Why Montana, do I hear you ask?  Well, you can blame Kevin Costner.  It's all his fault after we got hooked on Yellowstone last year.  The horses, the cowboys, the big sky and the mountains, I was in love.

So the plan is to fit in a rodeo, a country and western festival, and (I'm giddy about this bit) a re-enactment of the Battle of the Little Bighorn (or Custer's Last Stand if you prefer).  Mrs S has also hinted that a cabin in the woods might be booked, preferably with a hot tub.

With all this in mind, I have started to make a mental list (too early to put pen to paper yet) as to what might be needed for this adventure. Cowboy boots for sure for the festival, a stetson for the husband, who has been practicing his best John Wayne for the past few months, clothing with fringing (any kind, any colour) and proper Levi jeans (my Sainsbury jeans won't swing it for those cowboy types I reckon).

Mrs S and I were chatting about this on Tuesday.  'You need to bring some bells with you to warn the bears'.  Now, I have tried to gloss over the fact that the B word keeps cropping up in our pre-trip chats, but this intrigued me.  'What kind of bell?' I asked,  'Are we talking Big Ben or one nicked off the kids' old bikes?' 

After some banter about looking like a couple of Town Cryers as we sashay through Yellowstone, she went on to tell me that the bells let the bears know that we are there, so that they don't get frightened.  Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I am not the one who has sharp teeth and claws and can climb a tree in thirty seconds for a midday snack.  'Shouldn't they carry the bells?' I asked.

After a minute or two of talking about other things (pink cowboy boots) the B word came up again.

'When we are ringing our bells in the forest, are you sure we won't just be telling them that their food delivery has arrived?  I can just imagine one bear saying to the other, 'Did you order a full English?'

I now know what that hot tub is for.

I mean,when you're a bear, not every day is a salad day...