Woolly says – I had spent the week planning an extensive adventure only to be told at literally the last minute that as the human was tired, she didn’t want to have to drive for hours nor walk for miles and just wanted a simple trip out where we could walk the mutt and see something interesting. Having thrown my plans in the air and stomped off to have a sulk I realised that I had mere minutes to actually suggest somewhere before the whole day was wasted.

The mammoth seems to think I have turned into a super human but with the heat in the tipis and the illness of one of my team members leaving me to achieve everything alone I just wanted an easy day which didn’t involve anything to strenuous.

Woolly says – I rallied to the challenge, thrust a postcode at the grumpy women and kept my paws crossed that my latest idea would hit the spot, if all else failed I had checked and there was a café at our destination so I could always appease her with cake.

As the car raced along the Herefordshire roads, I set about finding out something of our visit. Brobury House and Gardens were built in 1881 in the grounds of the vicarage where the well known Victorian diarist Rev. Francis Kilvert lived, he might have been well known to the Victorians but I for one had never heard of him and upon asking it appeared that neither had my carer. The house had been constructed in the vicarage’s vegetable gardens and a mulberry tree from that time is still thriving today.

Each of the subsequent owners have added and changed the landscape but some things like the Pineapple pit was still intact, more about that in a moment.

Having parked the car and found the entrance we immediately found ourselves on a shady path that seemed to make us all happy especially Alfie the Dog who had lots of new smells to sniff out. An ornamental pond made an excellent starting point with the added bonus of some beautiful dark pink lilies in the clear water.

Through a gap in the yew hedge we descended the steps to the quaintest of pools set under a small bridge, what made it fascinating was the completely clear small pools where water was piped in against the green mossy stuff that covered the rest of it.

We wandered into the orchard which had been planted in the 1930’s by the then owner General Pitman who had used the colours of his regiment on parade in the choosing of the trees that were planted. Although hard to work out the colours I did like the sentiment and the trees looked as though they would be around for another hundred years or so.

We arrived at the pineapple pit which looked more like a pond now but had once been filled with manure to keep the golden fruit warm and snug enabling the household to enjoy exotic fruits.

The paths meandered round dipping in and out of the shade and giving us a new viewpoint at each corner, the paper birches that the latest owners had planted led us to amore formal looking garden with a line of cherubs waiting to greet us.

Although there wasn’t an abundance of flowers what were on display were beautiful and fragrant.

A secret path led us past ferns and palm trees before arriving at another pond which provided the mutt with the opportunity to slurp up as much of the contents as he could as Jo and I rested on the shady bank and enjoyed the sounds of nature around us.

A huge oak tree caught my attention for the sheer size of its trunk, it was that large it might have been around when mammoths roamed free and wild although my carer scoffed at my observation.

A trickling brook with its bamboo surround had stepping stones across it and brought us to the bank of the River Wye where children could be heard enjoying the coolness of the water as they paddled their canoes.

We left he river and headed through the natural grasses that lined our route taking the time to admire the large fungi that had attached itself to another oak tree, who knew how long it had been growing but it didn’t’ look like something I would like on my plate.

An ornamental pond sprouted more lilies, this time with light yellow leaves, small fish darted around underneath them.

The house wasn’t quite what I had expected certainly not as grand as I had thought but it’s ivy covered tower made it worth a photo before we turned our attention to the small café and its selection of cake and ice cream. As we all sat in contented silence licking away at our choice of flavours…even barking boy had a choice of doggy flavours. I felt that I had succeeded in my last minute quest of not tiring Jo out any more than she already was, ensuring that the mutt had a shady walk and throwing in cake and ice cream was the cherry on the top or ice cream on the top depending on how you look at these things.