Chidingstone Causeway, The Little Brown Jug

Tuesday 25th September        The Little Brown Jug

Rising Damp.

Walkers:4 legs,Farty,TB,Wind.

(latest update on Chris's communication problems,

The phone line is fixed,but now Brian's computer won't

talk to his router(?),and Chris's won't work at all.  Chris said

!£$%&@? hell!

 Find of the walk: We found we'd never been so wet - not with clothes on anyway

 Distance: 5 1/2 miles

 We met up at the Little Brown Jug,which reminded Wind of the Duchess of Cambridge's recent troubles where her little jugs were brown due to exposure to The Sun.

(Did you see what I did there,eh? eh?)  Wind had driven through a monsoon which had unfortunately followed her.  We stood in the pub porch deliberating as to what to

do.  When in doubt have a coffee break.  Fortunately the pub was open,so in we went.  45 minutes later the rain had stopped,so reluctantly we got under way,making

our way over Penshurst station railtrack and into the fields beyond.  Almost immediately the rain started again.  Sue and Chris were,as usual,kitted out sensibly in long rainwear,kneehigh boots,and hats.  Sue looked quite the edwardian lady in her bonnet and flowing raincoat,while Chris had more of a stylish Ned Kelly look.  The rest of us just had a drowned rat look,and we'd only been going 10 minutes.  Is this weather set to last,someone asked.  Sue said she'd heard there was going to be a lot of grey,and flashing,which sounded like inappropriate behaviour at an old folks home.  Talking of which,we soon came upon a group of oldish looking male walkers.  We stopped for a chat.  Don't you have any lady walkers,we asked.  They weren't keen apparently,and were amazed to see TB with us gals.  He deserves a medal!  He watched them wistfully as they disappeared in the opposite direction.

It was after this that we met our first cows,which,luckily for Chris,were fenced in.  They were black with lovely faces.  A mother cow was licking her calf. (Not her leg,her baby).  Disgusting habit,said Chris.  Forging on,we crossed the lovely Vexauer Bridge,which spans the River Eden.  The concrete posts at either end had carvings on top in the shape of breasts,strangely.  Probably something to do with the Normans.  Filthy French.  On we went,and arrived at Chiddingstone Village.  There now follows a brief history lesson.  Yawn.  Chiddingstone is named after the Chiding Stone,which isa large sandstone rock from which judgment was dished out to "overbearing wives"(?!).  There's no mention of overbearing husbands being judged.  Those were the days.  Apart from the church,(original bits 13th century),and the castle,the village is owned by the National Trust,and has been used as locations for films such as Room witha view,Wind in the willows,and Elizabeth R.  It was founded before William conquered.and was owned by Earl Goodwin,father of King Harold.  Nearly finished.  The Streatfeild family owned the castle from Tudor times,and in the 1800s,Henry Streatfeild,who was a big cheese in the iron industry,rebuilt the original house to look like a medieval castle,as you do.  Bit like putting stone cladding on your house.  The castle also has it's own very ornate victorian post box,which seemed to have more collections than the rest of us.  We know our place.

By now it was chucking it down.  "Look Sue", Wind said,"a cottage dated 1679!".  "Sod that",said Sue,looking at her reflection in a car window,"look at my hair!"  We were pretty bedraggled,but were determined to make it into the castle grounds.  We scurried under the cover of some trees,pausing only to help TB with his headgear.  He couldn't quite get his hood over his waterproof hat,so ended up with the hat on top of his hood,which we assured him didn't look at all silly.  After a quick nose round the castle grounds,and noticing a grave containing Ginger,the marmalade cat,(the marmalade cat was spread here,said Chris,darkly),we continued on our way,and came upon our second group of cows,which Chris bravely skirted round.  They were dairy cows,judging by the size of their udders.  There were boobs at every turn today.  We ground to halt at a deep water-filled ditch,and realised the bridge was further up,throught the herd of cows.  Idon't think so,said Chris,and she and Sue pole vaulted over using Chris's compass stick. Would have got gold in the olympics. The rest of us preferred the cow-lined route,especially those of us with vertically challenged legs.

The rain was now lashing at us from a horizontal angle,and Wind announced that even her gusset was wet,although that may not have been entirely due to the rain.  That reminds me,vast quantities of urine gushing from the cows and sheep today.  Gallons of the stuff.  It surely can't all be down to the sight of us.  Chris said she had a spare pair of her mother's incontinence pants if Wind was interested,which she could wear while her trousers dried in front of the pub fire.  We weren't sure if

that would be a very attractive look,but thought it would ensure speedy service.  We traipsed into the pub,looking,as TB put it,as if we'd shat ourselves,and gently steamed.  The food here was good,but drinks were expensive - £4.40 for a pint of lager.  The young waitress seemed bored.  "That was delicious" we exclaimed,as she cleared the dishes.  "There used to be a pattern on those plates" said Chris.  Nothing.  "You finished?" she asked.  You wanted to ask if the charm school was closed when she went,but we kept schtum.  Well,we are British. 

TB is off to his photography club tomorrow,and had some pics of the interior of a train carriage which showed rather garish upholstery.  Farty and Wind went all misty eyed,remembering the time when train seats were comfy,covered with dark blue and green velvet.  Wind remembered the district line carriages having lamps (not gas,thank you very much) and wrought iron twirly bits.  Serious memory lane stuff ensued,including recollections of trolley buses,toy bus conductor ticket machines,emptying your mum's larder to play shops,post office kits(loved the stamp)....You get the picture.  "Shall I get the bill?" said Chris,as eyes were glazing over.  You can have enough of All Our Yesterdays.  Do you remember that programme?....Enough already!

Thank you Mon,nice one.  We wait to hear about next week's venue.  Thanks for the mammaries!

Reigate Hill II - The Yew (Or Me) Tree

Tuesday 18th September


Monica's Meaningful Meander or
Seven Sisters (and T.B.) Scramble Surrey

Walkers:  Farty, T.B., 4 Legs, Windy, Lil, Clat and a warm welcome to Farty's sister, Viv or, 'Flea'.  Mrs P is still busy in Arrrrfrica 'eating, drinking, and watching the erection slowly rise' - Chez Viagara then?  Chris has contacted Ofcom and is now only partly connected, but at least it's a start.

Distance: 71/4 miles according to Farty, and 8 miles according to Sue.  Her mileage equipment apparently, tallies with that in the gym so it must be right!

Find: a man's cable-knit jumper drying out on a fence.

Reigate Hill was looking magnificent today - marvellous far-reaching views, and someNational Trust  folk out and about displaying signs for Gatton Park, and trimming their bushes - more about that subject, later.  Lil and T.B met a volunteer all the way over from little ol' Virginia , U.S of A - impressive.  Unlike the state of the loos here which have deteriorated somewhat, are dirty and smell - in a not-nice way.  Time to begin then.

This walk means we set off downhill and then along for a while before ascensions to be attempted.  We meandered and admired the views - cue T.B. and the camera.  Passing through the edge of the golf course, a couple of nannies or billies , a local school where the boys were practicing handling an electric fence and not succeeding, and eventually to Merstham (must go back to The Feathers apparently).  We arrived in Quality Street - so why not name ourselves after these traditional sweeties from way-back when?  Farty-brazil nut caramel.  Lil-orange cream, Chris-penny toffee, Viv-the triangular green one, Clat - coconut crunch, Windy - hazelnut whirl, Sue-nut brittle, and T.B - the long thin toffee with a hard centre (tee hee) - or are you just pleased to see us? A little refreshment and then across the motorway and the din of the traffic thereon.

The long hill climb soon presented itself , and the gazelles made light work of this l in 1 job.  Others of us stopped quite a few times and marvelled at some more views. T.B. got out his latest toy and demonstrated how to use binoculars .  At the top of the hill we discovered a very curious creation or art form,  consisting of rocks with wooden carvings of people on sticks ,with arrows surrounding them.  We played  spot the willy and left.  Fanny's Farm next, decked with bunting and lots of eccentricity, and a new Pudding Room for official functions.  In we went, and Viv stood around- meaning she bought us all a drink - thank you very much indeed.  We settled in the shrubbery and garden area, chatted, thought we felt the odd drop of rain, used the loos, checked the vietnamese piggies, admired the chooks, and set off once more.

'Time for a diversion' says Farty, and the silence was deafening - however, today is her birthday walk, and she can go where she likes  and so will we -  so we did.  Some quite pretty countryside ensued and after just one little losing of a footpath, and a bit of cowage, plus dismaying sights of fly-tipping and graffiti-ism, we were soon on another long, upward climb back to the car  park.

Short work was made of changing, and a quick dash was made for the pub.  The last time we were here was Clat's birthday, so it was apt that Farty had hers here too.  Good service and a good menu - hard to make up our minds, but before long we were tucking in.  A predominance of chicken pies was noted, and pronounced excellent, and the other meals were good, too.   However, Windy's arm gave us cause to be alarmed (I am trying to be dramatic here).  She had tumbled against a gate, and something had made her arm come up all bumpy and blotchy -  enough to look like Braille. Chris immediately did the empty glass test and announced that it was meningitis.  Farty got out her WD 40 otherwise known as Waspeze and managed to gas Wind and Viv with its contents - will this work?  Will her arm fall off? - you will know next week.  However she had to get away before long because she was meeting a man who was going to look at her bush, with a view to trimming it, cutting it back, or going for the full Brazilian - again, you will find out next week.   A woman at a neighbouring table developed a loud, and alarming-sounding cough - best that she doesn't book a table for Christmas, Dr Chris said.
Next week:  Farty will be advising venue etc., as Clat and Lil will be unavailabe due to hospital procedure for Dad.  It is likely to be in the southern hemisphere, but the location has already confused several of our members, so it should be an interesting day.  Do enjoy, and we shall catch up with you in October!! Talking of which, the week of Halloween will mean dressing-up for the occasion, which should worry the neighbours.  Poundland is doing an excellent line in the relevant gear, so we are  looking forward to creeping and creaking on the walk - Booh! xxx

Tandridge - The Barley Mow

Tuesday 11 September - soon be Christmas

Oh Oh Oh What a Lovely View

Walkers:  2 Legs, Windy, Clat, Lil and Angelala - no longer a registrarararrararar so a name change required.  No Farty or T.B. due to a birthday luncheon with an old lady-friend of theirs.  Chris joined us for lunch.  She has been incommunicado for three weeks thanks to B.T. - oy, you out there - it's the 21st century, so get her back on.
And relax

Find of the Walk - 0
Distance 7 miles.

Prompt arrivals all round so after quickly checking with the plumber if it was o.k. to park 'here' - we set off at 1025.  The promised rain had not materialised so today was spent rambling in the sunshine, with a cool wind not wend, to keep the sweat glands in check.  We went eastwards for a bit - some of us were champing at the bit, and had to be restrained, while Clat tried to circumnavigate the world.  This duly done we headed in the right direction - west.

Back out on to the main road and a quick fork to Jackass Lane, and then a goodly footpath to the left and some lovely views, which is where Wind came in, exclaiming from time to time how lovely they were.  Cue here for Lil to un-earth her camera and get clicking - and she produced some wonderful pics.  At several points we got into a bid of a huddle and decided on which direction we would prefer, and we sort of cobbled it together and it worked - oooo er.    A large pond came into view, and we recalled our last visit when Mrs P organised a rescue mission for an injured swan.  We reached the Enterdent which we reckon is between the teeth in France and then onwards and upwards, through some leafy woods, and after a particularly gusset-ripping stile, which could easily have robbed T.B. of his crown jewels, we came upon Godstone Farm - time for some heavy petting then.........................

The penned animals - rather ripe in odour, were admired, patted, and commented on (especially the fat porkie pigs), the loos were used - sort of synchronised releasing as we filed into our respective cubicles - and then we washed our hands like good little girls.  A picnic area here was the perfect spot to refresh, and the mood soon turned to one of  mischief, as all the playground swings, rides, etc. were empty, and begging to be used - oh gawd.
Despite Clat's efforts to get going again, Lil spotted a zip-wire - there was no stopping her.  Within seconds she was zipping and yipping her away across the ground, legs out in front and in control????? Sue climbed on to the other one and a lot of to-ing and fro-ing followed before a rather un-fortunate dis-mount, but nothing damaged, and then Windy decided that this was for her too - so more of the above.  Time to go, before a warden, or someone else comes to investigate the noise and chuck us out - what hoodlums we are!  Our final 'event' was to poke our heads through some holes, and become cows, pigs and sheep respectively. However the photo leads one to believe that Clat's head is coming out of the backside of Windy who was the sheep - getting to know ewe has a whole new meaning.

Out of there, across the road, and on to Ivy Mill Lane, going further along it than before. A rather bulky cyclist appeared on the bend, and without so much as a by your leave , headed towards Windy and Angelala, nearly knocking them flying.  Did he apologise?  Did Windy's admonishment have any effect? - what do you think? - correct.

Up a bridleway, and thanks to Lil's expert observations on finding dis-used stiles, we were on course for our return journey.  Back on to the Greensand Way and more views to behold.  We trekked along to Brakey Hill and decided to take the track to the right into a field.  Very quickly we realised we were on newly-laid slurry but we continued - on our fragrant way, to eventually  arrive at the Barley Mow - a goodly walk. 
Once inside, we were met by Father Christmas - inviting us to book our table for the festive period - 'we've not had Halloween yet' muttered Sue, so perhaps our walk took longer than we thought.  The sign in the Ladies asks us if we are Surviving Domestic Violence - well I did kill a fly yesterday.
We ordered - a pleasant young lady served us, and the lite bite lunches at £5.95 are a real bargain  we all had one, except for Angelala who had a very acceptable mackerel salad.

So that was that then, and we all had places to go, people to see, and journeys to make.
Next week is Farty's birthday walk.  She has selected Reigate Hill II which involves a visit to Fanny's Farm, and her sister Viv will be coming too - the more the merrier.  See you next week.  xxx

East Grinstead - Dunnings Mill

Tuesday 4th September

Goose, Anyone?

Walkers:  Farty - complete with boots!, T.B., 2 Legs, Windy, Lil, Clat and, G4 Jane, who will now be called Jane2P cos she has recently got married - congratulations!  As we already have a Mrs P who is heavily into erections, and Jane is now a Mrs P, we have decided to give her this monicker.  Sally joined us for lunch, and Chris was busy with other stuff. Sue left us before lunch, to tend to Mum who has had a fall and needs tender tending.

Find of the Walk:  A walking wardrobe

Dunnings Mill

Distance: 7 miles
A perfect day, as the song goes, and there was a lot of singing today from a certain member, but, as usual, it wasn't appreciated but it continued nevertheless.  The last time we were at this pub, enormous amounts of workings were being carried out, with a demolishment and then erection* of new Barratt homes and an old peoples' home.  This has all been finished, and the residents are in at the home, the sales office is in full swing, (great for potential alcoholics due to its close proximity to the pub - within vomiting distance as we used to say) -  and what a difference a few months has made.

  We chose a familiar route, north-east and other directions on the High Weald Landscape Trail.  It was here we found the clothing ensemble hidden in a tree - jeans and a top, size 14 and no owner about - oh well, I hope she had a good time - moving on..............   We came to Standen, the local N.T. property, and noted the annoyed travellers who had 'come all this way', only to find, that as of today, the place would be closed on a Tuesday -how frustrating, and we 'came all this way', only to get a bit lost, but we quickly recovered and were soon crossing fields of green but no red roses too, passing sandstone boulders and formations, one of which looked like a plinth, absolutely ripe for a  Windy-posing session, but Windy declined - we shall work on her for the future.

We arrived at Weir Wood Reservoir, looking healthy, glistening, and full of water, so we are back to normal then.  After a while, we turned, on the  homeward trail, and Farty provided a little change to the route.  We encountered a field with a great number of horses, and before we knew it, Sue had executed a neat exit over a barbed wire fence, then a wooden one - she doesn't like these critters.  However, they were very docile, and let us get on with it. After some edging round the backs of houses we arrived at the pub - 'far too early' states Farty 'let's go and see the chickens' - so we did.  This involved tracking by the new old peoples' home, and the residents/inmates kindly waved as we passed by.  The chickens were arrived at, and as Farty moved towards the enclosure to say hello to a goose, a ditch presented itself and she messed herself - what is it with her and fowl-life?  Anyway, she recovered something, and we went back to the pub, waving once more at the 'home' dwellers. 

We met-up with Sally, and eventually secured a table outside, right by the waterwheel of the mill - all very relaxing and lovely.  We ate lunch - all deemed very good, except for Clat , who thought her salmon salad at 12.95 was an absolute rip-off , and only one half of a tiny tomato too.  T.B's ham, egg and chips looked fab., and was much cheaper - right, moan over.  Time to go home.
Next week no Farty or T.B., so we shall do something, like sit a lot and chat a lot, with a bit of walking thrown in perhaps?  I shall be letting you know, once i've had me pin out and done a half-way point between me and '45 mins. of Windy' - ta ta.