DIGBY LOCKED US OUT!

DIGBY LOCKED US OUT (Tales from France)

written in about 2008 when we started the gradual move in preparation for retirement!

PREPARATION

We intended crossing the channel on a regular basis..... with a possessive

“Lancashire Heeler”; his full brother who closely resembles a small Lion with short legs

and very independent attitude and lastly a Dalmatian who would move the World to be in

the driving seat.

To aid us in this endeavour we had bought a van.

The van man stated assuredly that if France was our destination then a French van was

the obvious choice.

March was to see us on our way for the first time but the episode with the narrow boat

that put me on crutches for over 10 weeks delayed the initial journey.

( More about that later).

June arrived eventually and the three dogs had already had their passports legal for three months.

 Everyone seemed overexcited in anticipation of the long overdue journey.

Advice was taken regarding some sort of de - stimulant for the dogs and energetic

packing of the van commenced a full week before departure time. The very large trailer purchased 

on eBay to help carry the loads of possessions looked pretty big but when it

came to load the first car there was not much room for anything else.

Timber, intended to create the second floor in the large barn adjoining the house in

France was packed around and under the car; or as much as possible anyway.

Several tables and chairs of various sizes, multitudes of boxes with books and clothes,

dog paraphernalia and DVD’s; pieces of carpet, fishing rods, sheets of chipboard,

curtains and goodness knows what else, surrounded three dogs in their canvas covered

metal framed travel tents!

Ruth had spoken to Hilton Herbs who had always been most helpful with treatments for

the big horses over the years when they had health problems. A mixture was developed

and judiciously squirted on the dogs from time to time during the run up to departure.

OFF WE GO

During the actual journey to Portsmouth they were very well behaved. We stopped for

coffee just north of Oxford; the entourage of white van, pulling large trailer with blue Ford

escort with canvas roof, surrounded by huge long lengths of timber some protruding

beyond the back of the trailer; stopped right next to a small police ‘panda car’ where the

driver was busy writing in his notebook.

All three of us descended, my sister being the driver, as I was serving a further week’s

ban on driving imposed by my orthopaedic consultant.

The dogs launched themselves out of the side door in their haste to find suitable trees to

relieve themselves; the two ladies taking it in turn to visit the service station loo and

collect large coffee’s to help sustain our sense of adventure.

After a while the panda car and occupant decided it could lead to complications and

possible late end of shift if he began asking us questions. Dogs duly ensconced and us all 

nourished we completed the journey to Portsmouth without further event,

From previous experience we always seem to be hauled in by Portsmouth port security

for examination. This time was no different, but after checking us over we found ourselves

at the end of the queue of larger vehicles destined for the lower deck.

Well, lower upper deck anyway.

We were asked to go up that dreaded ramp again. You may remember the incident with

the tractor behind Ruth’s car? (A Ferguson goes to France)...The time when we had

ended up having to ask the deck officer and all the boat crew to come and push us up the

last very steep bit of that ramp!

I suggested to Jane that we took a run at it. The young chap controlling the loading did

not mind one bit. “Do just what you like dear,” he said.

Far different to the unhelpful chap who told me to just keep moving, that time with the

tractor. They say the fair sex makes no difference today! Don’t you believe it!

The van complete with trailer, sailed up the ramp effortlessly, dogs and all.

We found ourselves at the very back of the boat.

Stern to those of you with nautical minds.

The nice young lady with boarding directions told us we could come down during the

voyage if we wished. The dogs looked strangely unperturbed so Ruth zapped Digby

once more with his herbal de - stimulant and we closed the door on them for six hours!

We decided to let sleeping dogs lie and anyway the van had a huge sticker saying “pets

on board” in bright letters.

While trying to sleep on the voyage, we all had various visions of Digby in the front seats 

pressing all sorts of buttons. Each time the announcer passed a message we imagined

the next would be for us!

Why was Digby more likely to cause problems? Well on the initial “get used to travelling

in the van with your travel tents” journey; Digby had very quickly dug his way through the

front of his attractive travel tent by massacring the plastic netting.

It was a secure front no longer!

After this demonstration of his tent shredding prowess we began to create a system of

wooden walls within the van and something over the top of the tents of the two smaller

dogs to stop him crushing them with the dogs inside!

Now, two weeks after that initial voyage you just can not keep him out of the van!

DIGBY IN CHARGE

He persuaded us to take him to Saumur the other day in our search for a larger parasol

to keep off the 100 degree sun.

Digby was first into the van and was sitting innocently while I had mistakenly left the

engine running so to close and lock the garage.

By the time I returned after perhaps one minute; all the van doors were closed and

locked; key in the ignition and engine ticking over steadily.

To make things a little worse it was drizzling and I had left the wipers gently sweeping the screen.

Digby leered at me from behind the driver’s seat. He demonstrated how easily it had

been to pounce up behind the seat and place a paw straight onto the locking button on

the driver’s door!

Ruth went a trifle berserk. Or it could be said more than a trifle; the dog’s name was

truly mud!

The dog was happy enough for a while. He would soon want to know why the van was

not going anywhere. Electric central door locking or rather un-locking was just a little out

of his league!

Ruth was pacing the kitchen looking like thunder but much worse, so I could not reach for

a quick glass of “Pernod” to smooth my nerves! A solution had to found and quickly!

Walking round and round the van I began to realise how good central locking is. The

whole thing was quite, quite secure; with the dog on the wrong side!

FOILED EVENTUALLY

It would have been easy if we had an extra key. You know how it is with second hand

vehicles; they often do not have spare wheels and jacks! Ours had all the tools... and

operating manuals galore, all inside the van.

The electric window controls looked the best bet. The engine was still running and dog

looked safe enough in the back.

How long would it take me to teach him to reach for the window controls? After all he had

taught himself to lock the thing in seconds. He was so pleased of his achievement he

kept doing it!

Those of you, who have encountered electric windows, may remember the switches are

fairly sensitive. You only seem to touch them gently and the whole window opens to let in 

everything falling from the skies. Once they start they do not seem to want to stop.

That was what I was hoping was the only answer to our problem.

Ordering another “supplementary” key would come afterwards. We have been told they

could take weeks!

There was plenty of the “car crackers” friend about. Galvanised fencing wire of a strength

that can be bent round corners but thin enough to get through the gap between door and

door frame.

Herbert Stanwell had first taught me how to do this when I was employed as a car

salesman. Over the years I have had to use this “aid” on my own cars and those of

friends.... from time to time.

It did not let me down this time either, twenty fraught minutes had passed but the good

old galvanised wire was bent round the driver’s top door corner, down gently past the

driver’s arm rest and round a little corner onto the electric window controls. After four or

five botched efforts, success, and the driver’s window moved smoothly down.

We were all saved!

Never again curse the swiftly moving, hard to control electric window controls!

ends

copyright RKS 2009 refreshed March 2016

1505 wds