On doggy do-dos.

I once heard of a very posh American lady who stepped back and, allegedly remarked:-
"Oh shit, I've stepped in some doggy do-dos." 
Not much chance of that hereabouts, unless of course you happen to be a blackbird, sparrow or suchlike.
Today I excelled myself. For 9 years I have travelled, on foot, no further, nor faster, than Alice could manage. I now find myself outrageously below par with an, as yet, unscheduled trek with Alice, to the top of Hallin Fell. I don't know if it's permitted, or works, but here's a link to a 360˚ view from the top of it. So, today I walked to Cranston's Food Hall, had the "Full English" and struggled my way back.
There is a LOT of work to be done twixt now and whenever "then" is.
In, I'd say, a 30-50 yard stretch of roadside prickly shrubbery I must have counted in excess of a dozen, identical, wee bags; either hanging like this, or blatantly on the surface 12-18" from the footpath. You, apparently MUST pick it up and bag it. It seems that in Penrith what you actually DO with it is entirely up to you.