In Otley, I used to talk to an old nearly blind woman of 92 who used to accost anyone walking past her cottage on Major Dawson's estate. Her father was a doctor. She told me tales of her father, who was a doctor. Timbel is a village sitting high up above Otley. One day in the early 1900's the whole village was snowed in and her father rode his horse through the thick snow to help a woman deliver a baby. This woman is now dead and buried in the small church on Major Dawson's estate. Major Dawson accosted me once and demanded why was I walking on his land. He was with his wife, who had a shawl around her head, wore a tweed jacket and looked frighteningly like the Queen. She even had a spaniel by her side. Major Dawson was a small man, with piercing blue eyes dressed out in tweeds, tweed cap, tweed jacket and tweed plus fours and wearing brogues. Major Dawson said to me coldly "Good Morning". "Good Morning", I replied. His wife looked at me as though I had come from 'that dreadful council estate' on the border of their estate. Which was unfortunately true. Major Dawson said "what are you doing here? I don't walk in your back garden." To which I said "You're welcome to walk in my back garden anytime you wish but it's very small." He looked at my binoculars and said "How do I know you're not a poacher?" "They are for bird watching. And I will walk here if I want to." "Really, you are perfectly arrogant!" he expostulated. It was probably the first time in his #life anyone had stood up to him. "Give me your name and I shall let you walk here." I gave him a false name and he walked away.