Bletchingley - The Whyte Harte Hotel

Rising Damp

Tuesday 17th August
Walkers: Farty, T.B., Windy, 10 Legs, Clat. Trish is being sober in la belle France (oo- la- liar), and Chris is backing some hosses in York. Others, will hopefully be joining us again, soon.
Distance: only 6 1/4 miles
Weather: yuk - a slow, relentless drizzle, heavy cloud in parts, yet elsewhere, apparently, it was sunny and rather glorious - just us, then.
No find of the walk
This hotel is very welcoming and the staff attentive and friendly. Parking is no problem, and if you get there before the 1030 meet time, you can get yourself a goodly cup of coffee. Bletchingley is steeped in history, and it's easy to imagine the olden days of coaches and horses, creased crinolines, and push-up frocks - 'unhand me young man', and 'is that a musket in your breeches, squire, or are you just pleased to see me?' and so ons. The main road goes right through the middle which leads us to believe this was a major coaching stop - now replaced by diesel buses.

hollow way

So, after a caffeine injection, we set off across the road and through the grounds of the church - St Mary the Virgin - built in the 10 hundreds - a Norman construction, and Desmond Tutu was a curate here in 1965-67 - now look where he is! Outside, the building is adorned with gargoyles - not the sort you sling down your throat either.


Farty led , and we walked down a 'hollow way' - apparently these tracks were on level ground at one point, but over the years of droving livestock, these paths have sunk and become lower than the ground - well fancy that. We came across a lovely house, The Rectory, which has been used for programmes such as Emma and Sense and Sensibility, and then a school called The Hawthorns which takes children from 2 !!!!!! to 13.

There are some truly wonderful views and vistas on this walk. Many of the crops have now been harvested, and we noted large numbers of birds wheeling around the trees at the edge of the fields - so where was Alfred Hitchcock then?

We then came to a pub The Inn on the Pond - another coffee stop!!!! Sue went off to get one and we sat outside - in the drizzle. Clat passed round her fave m&s cakes - mini lemon and white chocolate -chip muffins - try saying that, after a few, and we noticed the hundreds of fag-ends on the floor - what a shame. Farty tells us it's much nicer inside, but they really need to clean up their act out here.

Some joker had switched the bridleway and footpath signs, so from the pub we went the wrong way. T.B. and his compass ( which has now developed an air bubble, and we hope it isn't terminal), sorted us out, and a slight retracement occurred. Back on track then, but really, the signs round here are in a bad state of repair, so frequent stops were made. At one point, the drizzle got so bad that Sue donned her running poncho, which is basically bright orange plastic - and once the wind got underneath, we had a human satsuma in our midst. Clat then had a huge erection, caused by her map-holder rearing up, and staying up , for quite a chunk of the walk , so we had a sex pest as well.

Some woodland to walk through, and then, alongside the M23 - the noise of which Wind and Sue tried to transform into the sounds of the sea - tsunami more like. Loads of blackberries by the way, so picking is about to commence, and seeing as Clat now has a constipated kitchen - stuff straining all over the place - fruit is very welcome. Next, under the motorway we went - a very long, and very dark tunnel. Thank goodness for Farty's torch, as it really was pitch black in there, and we didn't want to trip over a vagrant or two, but the place was very clean and urine-free - for a change.

Nearing the end of our travails (cut short due to weather), we came to a narrow path, full of cow ****. It seems that, at some point, the nearby bovines had gone down this path by mistake, got stuck, and performed their own version of ' up **** creek' - literally, and we had to walk in it.
Nearby, at the end of this walk is The Robert Denholm House (Capenor)  ), built of brick in 1887, for James Hudson the owner of "Hudson's Soap" , along with the Lodge, The Stables and Coach House, and the Baliff's House. Mr Hudson owned a sand mine on the property in 1896 . Capenor has had a number of occupants, members of Thomas Cook's family, the German banker W.Brandt, and for many years it was the headquarters of a religious society which distributed Sunday School literature.

The main house has 38 rooms and still looks much as it was. It contains much decorative ironwork, coloured glass and moulded ceilings. The south elevation is very impressive with its fine terrace which now overlooks the northern lanes of the M23. It is now divided into offices and a conference center (courtesy of 'granarytour) and known as Castle Place


Then hey presto we were back to the hotel, and in reasonable time before food stops at 2.30. T.B. then transformed himself, and emerged from the back of his car looking something like James May from Top Gear - wot is it with us lot, and wigs?

Sue said this walk was ' top of her list', and other things, like 'I'm ready for something massive' and 'I just love the smell of wet dog' - time to sit down, then. The service, food, and attention was excellent - in fact, full marks all round - a cracking 20 . Clat's turn for the famous ham, egg and chips, and what chips they were too. Home-made meat pies, and butter fish, were also to be had, and generous helpings too. Wind got rather alarmed as a big damp patch appeared on her trousers. Thinking that poor Minnie might have become in-continent, she was checked over and found not to be the culprit. There was also a pool of water by Wind's leg - she must be leaking then, or was something bubbling up from below?

We might find out next week, as we have unanimously decided to meet here again , so next walk, Tuesday 24th August, at the Whyte Harte . Farewell me muckers.