Leigh I - The Plough

I'm Having a Leigh Down - read on!

Tuesday 7th December

Walkers: Farty, T.B., Mrs Provincial, Registrara, Lil and Clat. Windy could not make it as she is expecting a mattress - hence title of the walk - ha ha. 12 legs are escorting Mum to the dentist, Hoots has been re-arranged as a result of the snow, and is in Dubai, and Sally must be up there somewhere too.

Find of the walk - a pot of gold

Distance - 7 miles

Weather - fffffffrrrrrreeeeeeezing about -2 most of the way, but it was bright.

We didn't hang about with our pre-departure preparations and made our way down Clayhill lane, which had many icy parts, and eventually turned right and on to snow-covered fields. Fabulous views to behold, bright blue skies, and crisp and crunchy underfoot.

We know this walk well, so maps were not necessary, and after a while , came out onto Flanchford Road, noting a pair of navy blue underpants frozen to a gatepost - good night out or an 'accident'? - we didn't stay to investigate. The footpath then produced our gold, in the shape of golden chocolate coins, which were scattered for our benefit - rich beyond our wildest dreams - about 25p then.

Walking on the roads and footpaths meant conversations came to a halt, as attention was concentrated on not falling over, and none of us did, which was a real achievement. We crossed a snowy tundra and in the distance, spotted a nomadic tribe making their slow and steady progress - towards us it turned out, but they spoke our language and were not taking our route - thank goodness.

Once over Gadbrook Road, we had a quick stop for relief and refreshments, and noticed a walking signpost, standing erect and proud on the landscape. ' The Angel of the South' said T.B., and got his equipment out once more, to take a photo. Here, we had a practice run for Christmas, and did various ha ha ha poses followed by some ho ho ho ones ....................... judge for yourself, dear reader. Clat topped up the cold water bottles with some hot blackcurrant juice from her flask - next week it will be ChoCLAT - more ha ha ha then.

The snow produces some amazing footprints, and some, in particular, were rather disturbing, as they were the size of an albatross - we must be careful out here. Further along we saw a field of venison. The unsuspecting deer were gently grazing, blissfully unaware of our conversations about redcurrant jelly, dauphinoise spuds, and other niceties to complement the meat.

Wonham Mill came into view, and after years of neglect, it seems that this rather nice spot is to be converted into 'dwellings' (6 flats) - worth keeping an eye on. The albatross footprints continued, and we noticed, with alarm, that the prints were even impressed on the concrete - so they are heavy as well as big , then?

Mrs P just had to have this!

We trekked on through more fields and crossed the river, noting the evidence of some severe flooding , judging by the tidemarks, and debris left behind. It was obvious that round these parts, walkers are getting lost, as the farmer had kindly placed several 'no footpath' signs for us. Luckily, we knew our route, and after more fields, a road, and even more fields, the end was in sight. However in the final field, we had a lucky escape as an enormous pile of steaming straw and poo had landed in our path - we had missed the giant albatross!!! Through the churchyard, where T.B. spotted a tree with a 'face' on its trunk, and out to the cars. No stretching today - we zipped into the pub and had the usual high standard of service and attention, and lots of hot grub to warm us up.

Next walk - well, the jury's out. If you are unable to make next Tuesday 14th, please let us know, and if you are coming, and have a preference, then also let us know. This may be the last one before Christmas - you have been warned !!!!!!

Now, to bore you even further, here is a poem from my book - 'The poetry of Robert Frost'

'STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING'

"Whose woods these are I think I know

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

night night! xxxxx