Boar in a sett

“We’re in the 21st century now” they said.
“Everyone’s blogging” they said.

November 16th, 2017

After an initial embarrassing misunderstanding, (“blogging means something completely different in the world of badgers), the concept was explained carefully to me along with some rather restrictive rules and regulations, and here I am.

I won’t lie – it’s been a fairly tough month. The one they call ‘Clarkey’ has a big enough swagger on at the best of times – and for those of you who hadn’t heard (surely there can’t be many of you left on the planet) – his appearance on Channel 4’s “Four in a Bed” alongside the rather fragrant Katie has done nothing to dampen his self confidence.

If you get chance to watch it, just filter out all the “Hi I’m Claaaaarkey”s and actually it’s quite good telly. We had Llama lookalikes, grown men weeing in potties, kebab sauce in places it really shouldn’t be, and the worst suit ever worn on national TV. Let me take this opportunity to thank the amazing Rumi in housekeeping, and also Rumi the breakfast chef (they won’t let me use my double Rumi joke) for getting us top marks for our rooms and breakfasts.

In other news, the Slingsby gin night in October was a blast. Or so they tell me. This old Badger’s memory is a little hazy after their navy strength tipple washed down my venison. For those of you have expressed concern, yes, Mrs Badger is talking to me again, but I don’t recommend anyone mentioning room 110 for quite some considerable time.

It’s a funny time of year – one minute you’re all sitting in my garden cooling down with frothy pints and cocktails, next thing we know you’re huddling round the fire with mulled wine and hot chocolate. The clever clever Jaks however (I’ve always had a thing for her) has gone and got some hot water bottles for outside. So now it’s blankets, patio heaters, cushions, candles, and hot water bottles. The woman just won’t accept that it’s winter. But hang on – these hot water bottles are foxes. FOXES. Somebody have a word with her about how the countryside works.

Christmas. Dare I mention Christmas without you throwing a mince pie at me? Our Christmas starts properly with those clever Harrogate people organising the Christmas market right on our doorstep halfway through November. It’s a place of joy. A place of magic. A place of peace and understanding. A place of walking slowly behind queues of people wondering how long it’s going to be before you get chance to nip across to The Badger for a proper drink. Piece of advice – try and plan your trip to coincide with heavy rain. Reduces the dawdling time before refreshment dramatically. Anyway, it can’t be too early for me to be discussing Christmas – you eager beavers have already filled up both Christmas Day lunch sittings!! Chef must be doing something right. I’ve just been informed there’s actually two tables left – get in quickly if you want (they won’t let me use my stuffing joke either – someone needs to relax).

I’ve quite enjoyed my first blog – I reckon I could get into the swing of this with a bit of practice and some drastic relaxation of the draconian censorship I’m being put under.

Anyway, thanks for reading, you’ve been a right f*!k*$g laugh.

Mr Badger x