We were staying at my in-laws’ caravan in the Lake District for a few days and casting about for things to do, when Craig saw an irresistible notice in the local newspaper. It seems that hound owners and enthusiasts get together to check out each other’s young. They call it the Bitch Produce. Excellent. We were in.

We drove to nearby Frizzington the next day for the 10-mile race. Unfortunately, having only been to greyhound tracks, we were ill-prepared for this sort of dog race. Everyone else was properly kitted out with wellies and binoculars, because the spectators stand on top of a muddy (it’s England, after all) hill and watch the dogs in the far, far distance.

We did have a little cash to lay bets, so we ignored the mud and just moved around the hill following the old men’s cues. For the record, all of my bets were on winners, but Craig only placed money according to my guesses once. So, we walked away with £25, which covered our entry fees with enough to spare for a couple of ice creams. Win!