Nearly there.

Whatever it is the British government spends its money on it's not road improvements.The A1 north bound from London not changed from the way is was when my father drove the family back and fro to Scotland 60 years ago. The infrastructure may not have changed but the volume of traffic has increased tenfold in the intervening half century and a bit. If we do this journey again by car we"ll go south round London and up the M1. Reduced lane widths, traffic jams and roadworks make this penultimate leg of the journey slow and tedious. There is good news. In every service area we stop at Sophie finds a dead bird - one dead seagull, a dead pigeon and something that has been dead long enough to make a firm and authoritative description impossible. From her perspective this ornithological cornucopia makes the journey borderline wonderful.

After seven hours we arrive at our destination near Hexham in time for a fashionably late lunch of mackerel pate and  chicken caesar salad. The hotel chosen from one of those 'where to go with your dog' websites so we're unsure what to expect. As far as the family diva's concerned it couldn't be better. Acres of soft grass underfoot and herds (?) of unsuspecting rabbits in the flowerbeds . Is there any bliss ( Ginger Snap biscuits excluded ) that can compare with finding unsuspecting rabbits in flowerbeds? There is much commotion but as with all Sophie's hunting experiences the rabbits are never at any time in anything approaching danger.

Dogs aren't allowed into the dining room but the receptionist offers to dog sit during dinner. Any reticence on Sophie's part about heading off with a stranger is dispelled by the promise of something to eat and the scents emanating from the kitchen.  So much for family dog devotion. Pre-dinner we order a glass of champagne in the 'Great Hall'. The glass it's served in hints that the hotel remains firmly in an earlier era of hospitality. So does the decor which combines swirly patterned Wilton carpet with an eclectic mix of furniture covered in all sorts of colors and patterns. Suits of armour lurk in unexpected niches. We, having chosen a bottle of wine with dinner, and presumably having thereby marked ourselves out as 'foreign'  are shown into the modern dining room that has been attached to the Edward III era keep by a glass tunnel. We share this room with two Dutchmen who have the unsettling habit of scratching their heads in perfect unison every five minutes and a large Berlin family who are visiting Hadrians Wall and were unnerved to see a man fall off it and break his leg. A helicopter was called which greatly impressed the children. The meal is reasonable and the wine almost so. The fact that Sophie is safe and happy elevates everything several notches. Despite its idiosyncrasies ( or perhaps because of them) we would go again.