Page 29 - IT'S A RUM LIFE BOOK FOUR Volume 1 "Northcote 1984 to 1998"

Behind that area was the space for the horses.
We took Juno to Belvoir. She was our original Carriage horse, a Dales pony cross mare
with very dark bay coat, attractive long attentive ears and smiling eyes.

Juno was becoming aged but could still be relied upon to behave and give of her best. We
were concerned about the steep driveways at Belvoir and her ability to pull the carriage
with a load but still her perhaps somewhat slow performance would be preferable to
Jupiter, her son, and his unpredictable antics.

Not forgetting our Policeman friend we return to Sleaford. Just after the level crossing in
the centre of the town the road proceeds westerly in the direction of Grantham down a
long straight residential road.
Of course all this has been by-passed now, but there is still permanent congestion in
Sleaford.

We had been stopped at the railway crossing gates for one of the then frequent trains and
were proceeding steadily down Grantham Road. At least with that trailer and horse on
board there was never any chance of us exceeding any speed limits.
The police panda car stopped in front of us and we duly parked behind.
The constable came and looked around the well worn vehicle with its ugly box body and its
trailer complete with not just one vehicle but two.

I supposed he was just intrigued with the look of it all. Certainly an unusual ensemble, I
should imagine its nearest contemporary was a travelling circus!

Eventually he decided that his best avenue of attack was me rather than the vehicle
ensemble of which he was obviously unsure.
He was not even pleasant or humorous or even human, just one of those policemen who
give the nice ones a bad name, one of those who if needing help on a dark night one
would be loathed to assist.
His first sentence was, “You need an HGV licence to drive that!”

I hesitated for a moment, just long enough for him to start getting out his notebook.

“I know,” I said. “I have one.”

Not wishing to antagonise him I omitted to mention that I was also the holder of a UK
Transport Manager’s Licence!

Asking him if we could now proceed as we had an urgent appointment at Belvoir Castle
with the BBC, we left him.

If you would like to read a story about a really good policeman, read “Windmill Express.”

AT BELVOIR CASTLE