Oh behave! Of course I mean the sort that tell you where to go! Question is, do you trust them or not? This became more than just a philosophical point when a couple of yomping buddies took up temporary residence in a cottage along the coast and pretty much press-ganged me into a yomp. Someone had previously bought a ‘Walks from pubs’ book which seemed a fair enough place to start, so we did.
Well actually we started with lunch at the Rising Sun on Tiptoe Road north of Bashley. In my experience a pint and a Plough persons lunch all round sets you up for a good yomp, and although acceptable it was never going to match the Plough persons lunch of gargatuan proportions we enjoyed several years ago in the Fleur de Lys, Pilley. It is the yardstick by which all other Plough persons lunches will be gauged, and my suspicion is that none will quite measure up.
So suitably fortified we started off on what was promised to be a gentle 2 or so mile walk through the forest and a nearby Inclosure. Now just a word to the wise, when you are walking from a guide book, read at least two sentences ahead from where you think you are. It will stop you having to backtrack along a road you should have turned off several hundred yards back. I’m just saying….
So anyway, many small ponies and a flying display of Swifts (I think) later, we were told to look out for a ’small stand’ of trees. Hmm. See trouble is if you use trees as a navigational aid in the forest, there is some room for misinterpretation. This is where tip number two comes in. Look at the front of the guide book before you start and see when it was last printed. This will give you some idea of whether a small stand of trees is likely to have become half a plantation. It will also tell you whether travelling along the river bank is likely to be possible without the aid of a machete, which in our case it was most definitely not. We did however learn that the mud didn’t come over the top of your boots if you kept moving fast enough, that Adders can grow rather longer than we had thought, and there is a beautiful tiny pink speckled orchid growing commonly in the area. This is after all the reason for country walks, that and being able to feel self-righteous about the healthy way you have spent the afternoon.
I guess we’ll just have to do it again next time they visit. It’s tough, but I like to support the local publicans when I can.
You know that old saying ‘You never miss what you have until it’s gone’? Well I think I would put a few caveats on that rather than accept it as is. See the wife and I went up to London, and since you ask, no neither Christopher Robin or Alice were anywhere to be seen. Stands to reason, to the best of my knowledge AA Milne never wrote ‘The 747 are stacking up over the westbound A4 and Christopher Robin went down with Alice’, deathless prose though it may be.
If you have any idea of the layout of London, you would immediately surmise that we were visiting West London, in fact the non-existant county of Middlesex. I never figured that out whilst we lived there and frankly can’t be bothered now, but a county that doesn’t exist as a legal entity but has it’s borders marked on the M3/A316 has more than a little of the Marie Celeste about it. Minus the sea. And the boat. And the still-steaming mugs… OK maybe not so like it at all.
So anyway, first night as we attempted to sleep, the night was filled with a roaring sound and the air was sucked out of our bedroom! What could it be? Oh yes, there’s an airport in West London which, not content with landing a plane every 50-odd seconds, insists on doing it late into the night at that. Funny thing was, when we lived in Hampton Hill, the only time we ever remarked on being overflown was when Concorde didn’t gain sufficient height on takeoff and we got an opportunity to count the rivets on it’s underside. The tinitis didn’t recede for some time as I recall.
It just showed us what we have got used to in Lymington. When we were shown our current property we were warned by the estate agent that there was a little road noise intruding into the back garden, but once you have lived on an A road in London, a little road noise is relative. The house didn’t shake when the juggernauts went by and you could easily cross the road when there was no traffic. But the thing is we got used to it, and now we’re not used to it any more now that’s it’s gone. And we don’t miss it one jot.
Something tells me I’m not getting enough discretionary time, my last post was the other end of the month for goodness’ sake. Now I never intended to do a daily post, but twice a month is not a great frequency. However with the longer days there are so many more opportunities to fix things, cut things, and much to my aching backs disgust, dig up small shrubs. Well you know how it goes, a moment of madness in a garden centre two years ago leads to a couple of hours hard labour. You don’t? Well then you’re either not a gardener or not married to one. Still at least we get to see the Californian poppies from the kitchen window now.
And speaking of fixing things, it will come as no surprise to hear that the builders attempt to fix the long-standing leak in the sun room roof has met with precisely zero success. As proven by the rather violent and prolonged rain storm a few nights ago. In fact, and you’ll excuse the possibly inappropriate use of words, he has all but washed his hands of it. So I am going to have to find some (dry) discretionary time to fix the leak myself as roofing contractors in and around Lymington seem to have gone the way of the dinosaur but in a somewhat shorter time span. I am really looking forward to it.
I realise that even with a computer the size of London it must be difficult to predict the weather in the UK, but fortunately the forecast was completely wrong for last Sunday. Rather than the promised deluge, we had glorious sun. Now I’m not complaining, not really, but we were invited to lunch just around the corner, actually most of Lymington is pretty much just around the corner, so we decided to walk the short distance. It was going to rain so we donned raincoats. Which on our return home I got to carry along with the wife’s Backfriend in what felt like sub-tropical heat. Still at least I took a few shades of grey off my skin colour by sitting out in the garden. Not really a tan, but at least a viable shade of alive.
The Bank Holiday Monday forecast was pretty much spot on. Enough sun in the afternoon to make us think a visit to the seawall was a good plan, too many clouds and a keen wind to make it a group activity if you don’t include joggers and dog owners who apparently had to be there. Didn’t matter, it’s a great place to be whatever the weather, and with the recent onset of a number of cygnets and a whole nursery of Canadian goslings, there was a high Aahhh factor which made the whole thing very rewarding.
Incidentally, if you have back pain and dread going out to places where you cannot be sure of a suitable chair, the Backfriend is a most marvellous aid. It is a tad bulky to carry around, but has made the difference between an early exit and agreeable social intercourse on numerous occasions for my wife. As the advert (kinda) goes, we don’t leave home without one.
