Tandridge, The Barley Mow

Tuesday 25th October

We've All Been Here Before - Or Have We?

Sad news - Poor Josephine, part of our 12 legs contingent, became unwell at the weekend, and the vet had to put her down. She wasn't alone, she was very loved, and we shall all miss her

Today though, it was lovely to see Chris, Sue and Minnie and to go walking in the fresh air and bright sunshine. We also had Farty, T.B., Windy, Lil and Clat. Sally joined us for lunch. Mrs P is still awl - absent with leave.

Find of the walk: a big dead fox - not photographed for obvious reasons, and he wasn't called Gaddafi

Distance: 71/2 miles

Is this a blue tit or a bullfinch? -ha ha ha ha ha

After a quick caffeine hit we set off - early for a change. Up and onto the Greensand Way for a short while before turning off and heading down Grove Road and past Sandlands, which is a big country house, now converted into apartments. We had the usual lovely views and were walking pastures new - literally, as some of the fields had just been ploughed and had therefore lost their footpath tracks - but we struggled through the mud and found them again. The rain has made a lot of the paths slippery and the sound of a huge 'wallop' was the signal that one of our members had fallen - Chris. Her wellies had dis-agreed with a footbridge and she slid off and into a ditch, which was mainly padded with dry leaves, but of course sod's law predicts that your body will find the hard bit and hers did just that. She recovered well and we set off once more, although sure as eggs is eggs she will know about it tomorrow.

Tipple

So, we were making excellent progress and then we sort of got lorst. We couldn't find a vital footbridge, and up and down the fields we went. T.B. went off to another field and did a wonderful impersonation of a scarecrow, and we decided to re-tread and start again. Good job we did, cos this time we followed the direction of the signpost exactly, and found the right place to cross a little brook.

All was going well until we reached a field of little bullocks, frisky, bouncy, and very inquisitive - they can also run fast. Chris, armed with her latest press cutting about yet another attack on a poor unfortunate woman, decided that this wasn't the place to be. However, diversions were created and we got to the other side and on into safety. We came to Foyles Farm - what a lovely place. We met two farm workers who were very friendly and chatty. They breed and rear beef cattle here, which apparently are a lot less aggressive than diary or even dairy ones. We were shown two of their magnificent bulls, one a charolais called Tipple, and the other, a Limousin called Tokyo, who had 3" long eyelashes and something else which was a hell of a lot longer- titter titter.

We were also given info about The Royal Oak, which is a pub nearby in Staffhurst Wood, and one we shall investigate another day. We waved goodbye to our farming friends and started our homeward journey, narrowly missing a hedge cutter and a mohican for some of us. Clat commented on the amount of molehills in a field nearby , only to be told they were cowpats - should've gone to Specsavers then.

As time was pressing , we omitted some of our intended route and did a bit of road walking, passing an equestrian farm called Only Foals and Horses (very clever) . Ironically, another hedge cutter was right across our pathway, but the occupant kindly moved up so we could continue - I mean, what are the chances of that happening? We are now re-tracing, and across one of the fields a rain shower passed overhead, producing a wonderful rainbow, which was sung to by Windy - cut.

The walking was heavy-going, as the mud had stuck to our boots, but slowly and surely we made our way back to the pub, passing a ram having his own tupperware party in a field nearby. Judging by the amount of red bottoms on the ewes, he had quite a lot more bonking to do - hence the expression 'being rammed' ???

Hooray, we were soon stretched, changed, and into the pub - very heavily decorated in Halloween mode. We sat surrounded by cobwebs and spiders, with a skull hanging overhead, and some eyeballs to the side of us. The barman was very attentive - we sat, while he brought us our drinks and food. The menu here is good in that one can have a 'lite bite' here, so smaller portions of our great British staples can be eaten. Windy's fish and chips was more the size of the Isle of Man, and the rest of us were satisfied with our portions. So, sated and satisfied, we went our separate ways, and noted that it had rained quite a lot during our meal inside - how's that for timing?

See you next week folks. xxx

Brockham, The Royal Oak

Going for a brisk walk does your veins good – especially if you do it regularly. A study of 40,000 women recently found that those who did at least two hours of brisk walking per week had a significantly lower risk of suffering a stroke than those who tended to move at a more sedate pace.

Source: Stroke 2010, 41: 647-652

Tuesday 18th October A Bridge Too Far - Or Was It?
Walkers: Farty,T.B,12 Legs, Windy, Registrarah, Lil and Clat
No Mrs P due to activities in the North and West, and everyone else was obviously absent.
Distance: 61/2 miles
Find of the Walk: a blue chewed-up tennis ball

A beautiful day for our perambulations although parking was a tad tight due to the assemblage of about 30 'older' people out for their own group walk. We set off in an easterly direction along the Greensand Way and then headed north towards Betchworth and some views. The next section, across some allotments, is undergoing a re-direction as we noted some magnificent new kissing gates in place, in readiness for the re-routing, so we had to take the old path for now, which led us on to and over the A25 , and into grazing fields (no cows for the present), and up towards a bridge. Today, this bridge had two workers on it, one of whom looked remarkably like Heston Blumenthal. Fluorescent jackets and helmets abounded as this duo were busy replacing part of the bridge, but our progress was not impeded, and to complete the picture, the 'nee-na' of a train whistled by underneath us.

Towards base camp we headed. We were now at the foot of Boxhill and no sign of Sherpa Tensing, but we had to carry on and do our own tensing. Steeply climbing and gasping (some of us), we made our way up the side of this big thing, and towards the summit we stopped for refreshments and much admiration of the views and our surroundings - there's nothing else like it on a day like this, and all for free. We soldiered on and reached the summit which is also the site of the dead horse (see earlier blogs). This is also part of the Pilgrims Way.

Then of course, came the descent, which was slow and quite hard on the knees, and when you have four, like Minnie, you just sit down and refuse to move, so a bit of carriage was required. We ummmed and arrred about a turn ( which would have saved the ensuing route-changes later on), carried on to the bottom and headed south - wrong. We came out at the in-correct bridge, but could see the one we wanted further along. Backing up a bit, and a left turn had us out into open fields where the National Sheepdog Championships are held. Trouble is that today we found a clue - a poo, which meant cattle ahead. Some of us don't like mixing with this kind of livestock, especially when newspaper cuttings are being presented on a regular basis, giving details of the latest 'hit' these steak-balls can cause. We found another bridge - wrong again. This one, gated and locked - a big clue that this was private property, so we turned round again, and headed back to the original bridge - are you keeping up? or down??

We are once more on the A25, and here we said farewell to 10 of the legs, plus Reg, who was having trouble with her knee. We gave up trying to get to the right bridge, walked alongside this busy main road for a short while, where Clat obtained her L plate, and then on to a track adjacent to a golf course. Acorns abounded as we crunched along towards Brockham, ( noticing a magnificent tree trunk looking remarkably like a heart) and eventually to our cars. We felt as if we had walked a much longer distance due to the re-tracing of steps and headed for the pub.

On entering, we were met with the smell of drains - not good, but found a suitable table at the rear. Lunch was a dis-appointment - menu choice very limited, prices o.k., but nothing to write home about, as they say. The barmaid was friendly and helpful though, which is always good to see. So, sort of repleted, we departed and set off in our various sunsets towards home. Next week is half-term so we shall choose our walk carefully. Have a good week - carefully! x

Ollie: the new ginger on the block!

Unashamed pictures of a beautiful boy who's arrived at Arborfield in succession to Arnie!

Warnham - The Sussex Oak

Tuesday 11th October

Oaks Sex - Us? (think about it)

Walkers: Farty (who has had a procedure and is ready for action once more), T.B., 12 Legs, Windy(or Conzuelamunn), Mrs P., and Clat.
Lil is on a train somewhere between here and Paris, and all others absent.
Distance: 7 3/4 miles

Find of the walk: - well, finding our way round will count, today.

Grey skies overhead, slight smidgeons of rain, and a breezy day, although not chilly. We left later than usual, due to late arrivals caused by tree-felling, octagenarian cyclists, and roadworks - enough said. Farty has been creating some gorgeous cheeses and jellies, and these were kindly distributed before we finally got going.

Ollie's first appearance

Within minutes on the track we met a man clearing the edges, who decided to call T.B. the lone Wolfman seeing as he was our only male member (if you'll pardon the expression). T.B. and Farty are preparing for a new arrival in their household in the shape of a ginger tom called Ollie (more photos to follow). T.B. is therefore odourising an old tee shirt, which means not much washing, so that the little puss can identify with the smell which should rub off on his fir. This in turn, should give the message to the other feline occupants, that Ollie is O.K. and will not give him a hard time - all i can say is 'good luck' - and this is why T.B. walked a little distance away from the rest of us .........................................................

Well then, we we have new paths to tread, and we had some lovely views to look at, whilst frequent check stops were made, in the hopes of not getting lost - we didn't. The shape of our route resembled men's dangly bits on the map, and we decided that the 'pair' should be completed - we did. Luckily for Chris, the cattle were in other fields today, and we noted a beautiful small jet-black cow suckling her equally beautiful calf. Nearby, was Dad - magnificent with the ring through his nose and a magnificent set of dangly bits too - what a co-incidence.

Rambling on, we forded streams, passed by farms, woodlands, and some lovely paths and tracks - a right good mix really. We ventured to the outskirts of Slinfold and returned through some more good examples of the first sentence. Eventually we reached home, and with 15 minutes to spare before last orders.

Shock and Awe!

The pub was very busy - even the octagenarian cyclists were there, filling up before their long cycle ride home - amazing. The landlord made us feel very welcome and told us we could take his two labradors next time we walked from his pub. He told us that it was Curry Week this week, hence the variety on offer on the menu, which none of us had. However, what we did have was abso-flippin' gorgeous. Windy's cod and chips was the size of Cornwall and we wished her well on her journey round its craggy cliffs and downs, and Farty was re-named Monitor Houghton after watching her tongue flicker in and out at the size of her meat pie. In fact, we all had generous portions, and the food tasted good too.

It seems that after last week's sphincter chat, Mrs P, was consumed with gripes and feeling not-nice on her way home. Luckily she had Conzuela to attend, but she managed to 'control' until she got some happy release at home - another co-incidence? We have other words to play with this week - W.O.M.B.A.T. - waste of money, brains and time. A vagetarian is a male sexual maniac, sex is not something that coal comes in, and a Prince Albert is a piercing for men's parts - we live and learn...................................

Soon after though, Farty and T.B. had to leave for appointments, and we stayed longer for tea. The landlord handed out some walking maps for us all - we like it here. Eventually it was then time to leave - especially as a really noisy child was letting it be known he had arrived - and this did not go down well with Minnie.

so, folks, we may be walking from Brockham next week - who knows? - but you will, in time. Have a good week T.T.F.N., as Jimmy Young used to say.

Outwood - The Castle

Onward and Outwood        Tuesday 4th October

Walkers: Farty, T.B., Windy, Mrs P., 8 legs (Josephine has had steroid injections, so is unable to bounce a lot), Clatchat. No Lil due to flu/virus and an imminent trip to Paris. All others awol.

Distance: 6 3/4 miles

Find of the walk: some John Deere overalls, kindly modelled by Mrs P.

A grey day, after all that splendid sunshine, but we knew it couldn't last, which has made the walkers feel a little flat. Due to last week's monumental cock-up on the communication front, the walk location was carried forward, so here we were.

The car-boot scenario occurred, with jam jars, bits and pieces, and a large bowl of cooking apples supplied by Windy, who then had an attack of the Bramleys and had to be revived by a slurrrrp from the Clat coffee flask. Phew

A new walk! We set off southwards and were immediately presented with a wonderful vista of fields and distance, with Gatwick aircraft presenting from the skies. A heading left, then right, brought us into a field with a bull to one side, and a herd of cows on t'other (as they say up North). Our gallant T.B. strode purposefully on, and the bull took no notice, so we carefully followed in his footsteps, and after some creeping round the edges, came out onto a road - relieved that we had survived the bovine presence.

We carried on our merry way, catching up on things, passing the lovely Smallfield Place, and our planned coffee stop - The Plough and Furrow. Although it wasn't quite opening time, we were welcomed in, provided with tea and coffee - and Mrs P provided us with amazing biscuits. Another amazing thing here was the price - £1 for each drink - what a bargain. The staff were friendly, the menu was excellent and so were the prices - we have to come back here.

Our stop was a little longer than usual, so we hurried off across the field, then Clat had an amnesic moment - she had left her map behind. Mr Gallant retrieved it for her - so kind. The others had gorn orf ahead at their pace, and we were a little behind (ooo matron), with our juicy conversation, which was all about sphincter control, and, being able to cope before matters came to a head - if you'll pardon the expression. We compared personal tales which ended on a bum note - ha ha ha ha ha. However, we all agreed that 'happiness is a dry fart' - let us proceed...............................................................................
Some re-arrangement of the planned walk had occurred, and we were very much into the Sue/Chris training area, which apparently, they don't particularly like, but for us first-timers, it was rather nice to be somewhere different. Various farms were passed, and a bit of posing was done here and there. We kept going in a northerly direction, and eventually we found the beginning of our route, and back to the pub.

However, let loose in the road, were two staffordshire/pit-bull types, with no collars, and before long were going to end up as tins of Chum. The pub staff located their origin, and a lady of a certain breeding herself, screeched her concern and annoyance that 'he had left the bloody gate open again' - enough said then.

We hadn't realised that food last orders are at 1430, and the place closes at 3. 8 legs went home anyway, cos they had to do things with Mum, and we hurriedly ordered our food (which was deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelicious), and had Remegels to follow. T.B. was quoting from one of his fave booklets 'What do you call a pig who has lost his voice? - disgruntled' more ha ha ha ha ha. And, did you know that it takes a pig 30 mins to orgasm? Farty, who is on the look-out for a ginger tom (snigger ye not), was given a pussy salt and pepper pot to keep her going -( ooops , could be heading back to sphincter territory here.) More talk - this time, the mis-use of the word prostrate as opposed to prostate - oh heck.

We carried on the chat outside, and decided that next week, we shall probably walk from the Sussex Oak in Warnham - but this is t.b.c. - have a good week xxx