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My friend Paul (read more about him here) and I decided to spend a night at the Tan Hill Inn – which is Britain’s highest, and perhaps remotest, pub –  so we could get an early start for a long walk in this beautiful part of the country. The drive up was uneventful – apart from Paul walling the car and we had to dig it out a of very heavy snowdrift – oh and the back wheel came off too. We only spotted it when it bounced past us!

Snow near Swaledale

Anyway, we got to the pub one exceptionally cold evening only to find there were no rooms available. Paul suggested we sleep in the car, and I being wary of freezing to death mentioned this. Paul said you have to get as much alcohol in your body as you can because it acts like anti-freeze and stops you expiring. This seemed like an excellent idea and we proceeded to get as much anti-freeze in us as possible.

So I woke up in the morning with a very ‘fuzzy’ head. I was also aware we were moving and then I remembered I had slept in the car. But I couldn’t work out what the hissing noise was and where the smell of bacon was coming from.

Cold sheep in Swaledale

Opening my eyes, I saw Paul was driving the car, but he had also had a lit primus stove between his legs and a frying pan on top and was cooking bacon and eggs whilst he was driving! ‘Thought you would like some breakfast’ he said as the hot fat spluttered up the windscreen and we hurtled along the snow covered country roads at speed. ‘Best to get an early start’ he said…

'Frozzen' sheep somewhere in Swaledale

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