Riphay Scuffle. This is a particularly Exmoor affair – totally mystifying to most but a seminal part of the summer. We walked up over the hills (if you park at the Scuffle you run the risk of never seeing your car again – in one piece). It’s peaceful and beautiful – idyllic Somerset countryside. Then you hear it: the growling and groaning of engines in pain. Next comes the smell – of burning diesel. Finally you crest the hill and the full madness becomes clear – 4x4s charging around a sort of circuit, plunging through rivers, churning through mud, dodging trees, shunting one another, being towed out by tractors. It’s Mad Max Armageddon – total insanity.
‘Never mind,’ said I, laughing my head off at the sight of a very small little girl being towed across the ring by a very large retriever. ‘Another week, another dog show. It’s the terrier show next week.'
‘Hmm, maybe we should take Asbo,’ said Adrian. We laughed weakly but hey....you know what – I think we just might.
Don't you love this picture - the SP's tail and ears wagging so fast they've turned into a blur....