Bletchingley 1 - The Whyte Harte

Inns of the Seventh Un-happiness

Tuesday 20 September 2011

Walkers: Farty, T.B., 10 Legs, Mrs P, Polly Possibly (it's a yes this week), Lil and Clatchat. Conzuela no hills is on her way back, Rahrah et others - absent.

Distance: 6 miles

Find of the Walk: Twinkle twinkle little star

Back to perform a previous walk - this place has so many possibilities, and we still managed to get some of it wrong. After much comparing of 'what have you got in your boot? (car, not foot), we set off 5 mins earlier than usual - progress!

Over the A25 and thru' the Desmond Tutu churchyard, where 3 elderly gentlemen, seated and munching, obviously thought we were nuts - i can live with that. Bit damp underfoot, and grey, claggy skies, but the chat was ebullient and catchings-up with Mrs P (South African news), and Polly (French news) - what an international bunch we are.

After heading West and North, we came to the Rectory where mass workings are in evidence, plus a huuuuuuuuuuuge dawg (a massive mastiff), who started to try his voice out on our interruptions to his canine day. We squeezed past the thoughtfully parked white vans - good job we knew that the footpath was right behind them, and then out to some open countryside, and a field full of dried-up mustard plants. We also found black mushrooms later on. The drone of the M23 could be heard in the background, and we were soon underneath it, and on to more good countryside.

We eventually arrived at The Inn on the Pond - our first dis-appointment of the day, as it doesn't open until 12 noon. How ridiculous is this? Some folk like to eat lunch at 12 - they are missing a trick here, as coffee-stoppers might easily be persuaded to stay on for a bite to eat - 1130 would be a far more sensible time to un-lock the doors. Moan over - we ate delicious flapjacks provided by Mrs P, and wandered off and upwards towards the Disused Workings Woods. There are quite a few broken and wonky stiles here, so leg-people beware.

At the top of the hill, a slight difference of opinion then followed re exactly where we were. Out came the compass, so we headed southerly, where we found our smiling twinkling star dangling from a tree. Of course, we went the wrong way, and came out onto the A25 at the wrong place, and then walked towards our second dis-appointment of the day - The Queens Head, for another attempt at coffee.

We were met with the most un-friendly welcome - not even a hello. No banter or gay ripartee here, and we gradually, and grudgingly, were served our beverages .We sat in the gloom, and observed the not very many patrons, and decided this place was awful. It is up for sale, which may have something to do with it, but hey, come on, if you are in the service industry, you provide one, and with a cheerful attitude - don't you?

So, before we slit our throats, and with emptied bladders, we went on. Outside, the brewery lorry was doing its deliveries, and spilling a lot of it - that would surely add to the misery - not our problem. Down the lane and on to a track with a tree-fellage in the way. No problem for our intrepid ramblers, and after much crashing and thrashing about, we were on our way once more. Lovely open views to be had, with the ever-roaring M23 in the distance. This time a very long and dark tunnel had to be negotiated, so, in fear of stepping on a stiff or two, the torches came out.

Another, bigger tree-fall meant a diversion, before coming out into grazing fields and a shriek from Lil as she managed to find, and sink a little, into the boggy area, which quietly lay in wait for unfortunate feet. Here too, we espied some anoraked walkers, who were busy screwing in some new signs for the Greensand Way. We had a little chat, and carried on . Very soon we were back at base, and the car boots were emptied, exchanged, and sorted, before lunch.

Inside, the place was empty, very gloomy and lifeless. The staff were new, and the atmosphere was not as good as before. We ordered our food and drinks from the barman who was very pleasant, though, but we had a long wait for it all to come. In the meantime, Polly opened her box of tricks and delighted and amazed us with all her wonderful items wot she has made. Her knack for turning old bits and pieces, fabrics, jewels, etc. is incredible, and we had a lovely time looking at it all.

The quiz also began, which was interrupted by the landlord? or at least someone who joked he was the brother of the landlord at the Queens Head - ha ha ha ha ha. He performed a game of heads and tails on us , and then gave us a quiz question of his own: How many green Lloyd Loom chairs are in the Royal Box at Wimbledon? After much surreptitious texting, we came up with the answer - 74. Pleased at our efforts, we then discovered that the ?landlord had gone home - charming.

It got very cold in our room, and Minnie even had a bark at nothing - is it a spirit or somesuch? We shall never know, cos we left soon afterwards, to get home and to get warm.

Next week there may/may not be a walk. Clat and Lil unable to make it, and Farty has a few things to organise. However, this doesn't stop the walk from happening from a different sphere, with another planner. Good walkings everyone xxxx

The Duke's Head - Walton Heath

Tuesday 13th September

The Elusive Path to The Sportsman

Walkers: Farty, T.B., 12 Legs, Lil and Clat. Mrs P is in South Africacacaca, and Wind has gone on el vacacione to Spain. Others doing others things.

Sally joined us for lunch and brought us up-to-date with her others things.

Distance: 63/4 miles

Find of the Walk: The Sportsman - eventually

Today is in celebration of Farty's imminent birthday (14th) and what a good choice it was. This route was delayed from last week as the filthy weather meant a cancellation.

We set off over Banstead Heath. A marvellous bright and sunny day, puffs of cloud ,gentle breezes, and lots of birdsong. There was lots of Clats song too, but this is not appreciated by the others. Determined to find the correct path to the Sportsman, we headed in an easterly direction, but, yet again, not far enough. On our o.s. maps, only a few walks are marked, but on this heathland, there are many more to choose and confuse from.

However, thanks to compass-man, and Chris's stick, we kept our co-ordinates and kept walking. Finding a 'permissive ride' we turned southwards, and quite a bit of onwards. Eventually, even though we were not on the correct track, we recognised our 'patch' and adjusted accordingly. Thus we managed to reach the Sportsman.

The friendly staff served us our coffees and teas outside. The waitress told us she came from Riga, and all we could connect that to was the Eurovision Song Contest and Terry Wogan - hey ho that's geography for you. Minnie became rather vociferous at the arrival of a very pretty labradoodle, and jack russell, and us humans voiced our opinion on the size and quality of the owners' chips. Time to move on......................

Our tracks today were wide enough to enable a good flow of conversation. For some reason, poor T.B is feeling stressed, about what he knows not - he just woke up that way - I think the moon may have something to do with it. We approached the bridge across the m25 and noted that the underpants had finally gone from the clutches of the bushes. At the other side Sue happened to ask Clat 'how's your hair fanny'? Much sniggering was caused by this remark, and then Farty asked if this was a 'pubic footpath' - must be the moon again.

We came out onto Colley Hill and some really lovely views across Surrey - gives you a marvellous feeling - but we had food in mind, so we had to come away and cross the motorway once more. This time we were on Banstead Heath, and its golf course in the vicinity. Crossing the Dorking Road, and then a parallel footpath further inland, provided good wooded shelter, as it decided to start raining. Here, T.B. told us that Lidl is selling a cagoule which can be turned into a tent - whatever next?

Well, next was the ending of the walk, and perfect timing for Sally, as she arrived just as we returned. Off to the pub then. It was busy as always, and friendly and welcoming as always, too. We were given waitress service, and a real variation of fare was ordered. Farty caused sniggering again, by ordering a rabbit in pastry (Anne Summers eat your heart out) - and very nice it looked, too.

We toasted the birthday girl, then took our leave - thankful to have missed the really heavy downfall of rain outside whilst lunching.

Next week, we are hoping to do a walk at Bletchingley - The White Harte, so you can get a coffee beforehand - will confirm later on, in the usual way.