Royal Tunbridge Wells, Mount Edgcumbe

Tuesday February 18th 2014

The fearless four go urban again

Venue: Royal Tunbridge Wells

 Walkers: Farty, Mrs P, TB, Wind

Distance: 5 miles (I don't BELIEVE it!)

Time taken: 3 hrs ish

Continuing the urban walking theme while the countryside slowly (very) drains, we met up in Morrisons car park. I know, Morrisons, in Tunbridge Wells, what is the world coming to!  Farty and TB had driven down from the big smoke, having abandoned plans to let the train take the strain due to the need to catch an unseemly early train because of landslides, train cancellations, and other general mayhem.  A quick catch up on TB's "procedure" http://rahras2.blogspot.co.uk/), and all is healing nicely, though dressings are still attached and he has to use cubicles in public toilets so as not to alarm fellow piddlers.  There have been few problems other than when the cats need to knead his nether regions, and of course no contact sports are allowed, or indeed any other contact.  No change there then, TB added bitterly.  Apart from that he's just relieved he didn't contract MRSA, and the added bonus is, he said,  that he can now speak yiddish.  Anyway, back to the walk (must I?).  We paid for our car park tickets at one of those machines that "speaks" to you, in Michael Caine, or Frank Bruno fashion, advising you not to leave valuables in your car.  Rather common for Tunbridge Wells we thought.  We set off down the original high street, full of lovely shop frontages, obviously originally butchers, bakers, (candlestick makers? Probably).  Now chic, expensive boutiques.  Moving swiftly on we arrived at King Charles the Martyr church, a lovely chapel-style church originally built in 1676 by entrepreneur and builder Thomas Neal.  It's a grade 1 listed building with a beautifully ornate ceiling crafted by a couple of plasterer mates of Christopher

Wren, John Wetherell and Henry Dogood.  (The boy done good).  A brass plaque on a balcony denoted Queen Victoria's seat, well away from the great unwashed.  Queen Victoria often visited Tunbridge Wells to partake of the waters at Chalybeate Springs.  We had a look, it was just a not very impressive rusty looking puddle.  Apparently it was discovered by a courtier of James 1st on his way to

London from Eridge.  According to Google it seems he was hungover and stopped to have a slurp from the murky water and immediately felt better.  We could have done with some of this stuff when we were flying, instead of using up all the emergency oxygen bottles.  Things really took off from there, and soon people were flocking to the area to take the waters.  15 pints(?) a day could cure all manner of ailments-tedious agues (I get these in Tesco), cirrhosis, scurvy, gonorrhea, and hysteria.  Who wouldn't be hysterical suffering from that lot.  Through the lovely georgian Pantiles, complete with Victorian post box. and on to the Spa Valley Railway, part of the original line to Brighton and Eastbourne until Beeching...we won't go there, always sets us off.  TB's eyes lit up.  Unfortunately it's not up and running until Mother's day, but we had a nose round. The old station is an impressive building, but unfortunately is part of the Smith and Western pub chain which took the edge off it's grandeur.  "Did you know you can get a train form here to Uckfield?" asked Farty.  Mrs P and I looked nervously down at our shuffling feet and had to admit we didn't,  Farty rolled her eyes.  There were several occasions today when we were asked what we knew about local landmarks, and we were ashamed to say not a lot, due to heading straight to M&S and Fenwicks.  Shocking.

We headed up across the common and ended up on a road with very imposing large houses, all turrets and big chimneys.  Time for a drink and an ogle.  TB's new phone suddenly chimed - sounded like the bells of Westminster Abbey.  "Who was that?" asked Farty.  "It was the market research people" he replied,  "they wondered if I'd be interested in doing a survey regarding....."  "missing foreskins?" asked Farty.  "No" TB replied wearily, "heart complaints".  Poor bloke, this really was becoming a sore point.  (Sorry TB, no more!)  We suddenly noticed a patch of blue sky and were so shocked that TB had to take a snap.  A rare sight these days.  Apparently the Daily Mail says we're in for a scorching summer.  We won't hold our breath, but prepare for hosepipe bans.    

We came to a farm chock full of chickens, turkeys, geese, donkeys and a furry goat.  Farty screeched to a halt.  She couldn't resist and Dr Doolittle-style talked turkey to the turkeys.  Apparently they were very well, and relieved Christmas was over.  Onward through Rusthall common and through an extremely posh housing estate with Southfork style houses. 

Bit ostentatious, we thought, wouldn't do us.  All had been going well until, shock, horror, red alert, MUD!!!  Now, I'm not one to complain, as you know, doesn't bother me, but the others made a bit of a fuss.  Fortunately we were soon through it and came upon St. Paul's church, a charming little church with a graveyard full of lovely angel statues.  Feeling suitably serene, we carried on towards the Beacon pub/hotel for a possible lunch stop.  Two meals and a glass of wine for £12, what could possibly go wrong......?  It looked a bit Fawlty Tower ish, but undeterred we went in and ended up on a landing peering down into the bar to get a sense of the ambiance.  We could see a lot of cauliflower heads.  No surprise there with those prices.  A large woman appeared, wearing what looked like a white nursing home smock and looking rather like nurse Ratchet from one flew over the cuckoo's nest.  "Can I help you?" she shrieked from below. We all nervously leapt in the air a la Basil Fawlty being told off by Sybil.  "No no, just looking, in the middle of a walk, can't stop".  We high-tailed it out of there, and moved on to the Mount Edgcumbe pub, which was much more us, good food , ambiance, no cauli heads, but no £12 deals.  Get what you pay for.  Just time for a coffee at the old opera house, now a Wetherspoons - they get everywhere - where we had a truly dire coffee and hot chocolate.  Still, what do you expect for £1.15?  Sue and Chris would have been appalled.  We were causing quite a stir as we were the only customers admiring the architecture and decor, and taking photos. 

Everone else was admiring the prices on the menu, and there were some dodgy looking characters with missing teeth staggering about, (from the local council offices we thought}, so we didn't hang about.  Honestly, if we were

from Tunbridge Wells we'd be disgusted!

Keep calm and carry on, spring is round the corner!  Love Wend xx

The Holy Foreskin!

How it's supposed to look!

Warning: contains explicit material
The Holy Foreskin!
In researching the whole business of circumcision - what was going to happen to me and what the recovery was likely to be like - I came across some amazing bits of info which quite humbled me. It seems I'm following in some exalted footsteps (?). As my GP said: "you're better off having it done as a child". Fortunately he said this to me afterwards.Here is an example from the Chapman Brothers' exhibition at the Serpentine Sackler Gallery:

Up until 1960 the Catholic Church had a Feast of the Circumcision, but wisely it seems to have given it the 'chop' in recent years. How on earth I came to discover the Holy Foreskin I don't know, but Google throws up some amazing page titles in  a simple search for this divine body part. Here are just a few:

Holy Foreskin! Whatever Happened to Jesus' Foreskin?

Quest For The Holy Foreskin - National Geographic Channel - UK

and Facebook has an answer too:

The Quest for the Holy Foreskin | Facebook

 and the best of all:

The Holy Prepuce - The nun who ate the Holy Foreskin of Jesus...

and this question needs an urgent answer:

Christ's Foreskin. The Circumcision of Jesus. Where'd it go? Potential for Christ CLONES?

The power and popularity of relics in Medieval Europe was dependent upon the saintliness of the original “owner.” The ultimate source of relics, of course, was Jesus himself. But there was just one problem: it is clear in the New Testament that after his resurrection, Jesus was “carried up to Heaven.” Thus, there just wasn’t any possibility of a church acquiring Jesus’ head or foot, as happened with various saints. For the most part, the only Jesus relics available were things like his crown of thorns, his robe, his sandals, or even pieces of the “True Cross.”
But then some astute theologian — or was it a businessman? — realized that not all of Jesus’ body could have been actually transported up to Heaven. Jesus was, after all, a faithful Jew, and as such, he would have been circumcised like every other boy. So where was his foreskin? Whatever happened to that bit of divine flesh?
And thus began a search for a very odd “Holy Grail” which resulted in not one, but up to a dozen different holy foreskins, each competing to be the genuine article. Of course, one presumes that they could not all be genuine and I am not aware of anyone who tried to argue that the unusual bounty was a miracle akin to the loaves and fishes.

http://atheism.about.com/od/aboutjesus/a/holyforeskin.htm

Anyway, if you're still reading I know most of you want to know the personal gory details! The worst part of the op was the 5 hour wait while all the general anesthetic cases were done because they need longer recovery time. The rest of us local anesthetic cases had to wait. Eventually after 5 hours of BBC News 24 about the terrible weather I was wheeled in to the ant-room on a trolley in my disposable hospital underwear (ominous!) and my socks and shoes. Bizarre or what? The young schoolboy-like registrar immediately stuck 2 enormously long needles into me where no one should and said affably that that was the worst part over. And he was right. The surgeon then stuck something sharp where he didn't 'oughta' & on my shout promptly applied more juice!

Then I turned Fleetwood Mac up to full volume on the Ipod (note the product placement, please) and found I couldn't think of anything else. Wonderful - should have done that 2 weeks ago, but maybe Mon would have noticed even less response to any inquiries (or maybe not...). Half an hour later all was done & dusted, but walking out  of the operating theatre in socks and shoes felt really odd.
I can't praise the hospital staff enough for the way they dealt with a nervous, verbally diarrhoeal patient with kindness, skill and humour.
3 days later & it is as if nothing has happened except this isn't mine......

Oooh, aaah, it's the Shar ....d!

Venue:  London Bridge station - circular via Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, Wapping and the Tower of London

Walkers:  Farty, TB, Windy Nohills & Mrs P

Distance:  about 10k/6 miles

Time taken:  about 3 hours plus 2 pub stops

Weather:  A bit of dampness to start then clear, some blue sky and great visibility.  Quite cold by the river.


We decided that due to the almost impossible walking conditions anywhere in the countryside, an urban walk was called for so we convened at London Bridge for a complete change of scenery.  Miss Nohills and Mrs P boarded the Uckfield Express with great excitement and arrived in the seething metropolis bang on time where M & M were waiting for us.  The provincial walkers set the tone for the rest of the day by acting just like tourists or more like retards from the back of beyond who had never seen such wonders in their lives - hence the first OOOHs & AAAAHs as we left the station and saw the splendour that is the Shard!  I think M & M were somewhat amused by our childlike excitement - or at least if they were embarrassed, they hid it well!

Farty had researched a brilliant walk so after the Shard we headed off to Bermondsey.  We first walked through what used to be the old tanners quarter with road names reflecting its history:  Tanner Street, Morocco Street, Tyers Gate - it's now suitably trendy with interesting shops, small exhibitions, reclamation yards and antiques.  We tried not to get sidetracked .... Luckily the antiques market wasn't on that day as we would never have got any further .....

We caught a wonderful whiff of hops from the brewery but decided that it was far too early in the walk to stop for refreshments - so onwards we went, back towards the Thames Path.  Suddenly there was a cry from Miss Nohills - somehow in the middle of all this urban-ness she had managed to find some mud!  Disaster!  We just stopped her from high-tailing it back to London Bridge to wait for the arrival of the next Uckfield Express back to Provincial-land - and managed to distract her by a timely 'muesli bar' stop!

More ooohs and aaaahs as we passed restored and converted warehouses - there are so many of them which is wonderful to see.  The large swing hooks on the upper stories which used to load goods onto the top floors are still there, and some still have the bridges which connected one warehouse to another.  Nowadays all full of yuppy loft-style apartment dwellers no doubt.

The only unpleasant incident in a lovely day was almost being taken out by a cyclist on the Thames Path - are we meant to have eyes in the back of our heads?  Clearly a dinging of his bell & we were meant to dive for cover as he hurtled through.  TB left him in no doubt as to what we thought of him (good man!) and he replied with a very charming wave of a digit.  Moron!

So much to report on - beautiful houseboat gardens, Edward III's moated manor, stunning views of the Tower of London, The Big Sewer project (best avoided!), Dr Alfred Salter's stolen statue (for scrap metal, what b.....ds), flocks of goldfinches on bird feeders, lovely houses ..... and best of all it was so quiet - we hardly saw a soul, it was as if we had the place to ourselves.  We stopped at a couple of churches, St Mary Magdalen Bermondsey and St Mary's Church, Rotherhithe. There is a plaque on the side of the latter marking the sailing of the Mayflower (and a pub just over the road) - none of us knew that it departed from here on it's historical voyage. We decided to go inside for a little look and noticed another plaque with the name of a Robert Shafto Hawkes - so as we left the church, cue a rendition of Bobby Shafto - oh dear, just as well there weren't many people around, they were probably all disappearing fast in the opposite direction.

We arrived at the Brunel museum and Rotherhithe station where we caught the Overground to Wapping.  The train goes through the Thames tunnel which was built by Brunel and his father -  http://www.brunel-museum.org.uk/ - another piece of quite amazing engineering.  (Sadly it's not visible as you travel through it).  Apparently Isambard was working in the tunnel when a there was a massive leak - 6 men died and he was incredibly lucky to escape alive.  He was shipped out to Bristol where he heard of a local competition to design a Severn crossing - and the rest as they say is history.

So we arrived at the north bank and continued along the Thames path.  Having resisted all the pubs on the way so far, we gave in and stopped at the Capt Kidd.  Great choice, a lovely pub overlooking the Thames, non-gastro and full of locals - all the tourists head further east to the Prospect of Whitby.  After a swift half and 'comfort break' we continued on, past yet again more lovely houses, warehouses, history, history and .... pubs!  We had a quick look (no, we didn't go in, promise) at the Town of Ramsgate which claims to be the oldest pub on the Thames.  A rather gruesome history - we walked down the steps to the shoreline where there is still an iron ring and chain half way up the wall.  Apparently they used to tie the pirates to the chains and wait for the tide to come it - they let it come in 3 times just to make sure they were dead.  Mind you, if we used it these days for those damn metal thieves .....

We passed Wapping Pierhead conservation area which was the old lock entrance to the docks.  It's now filled in but the beautiful Georgian houses remain - including a house numbered no 4 1/2 ! Obviously they didn't go in for 4a in those days! Onwards to St Katherine's dock and lunch at the Dickens Inn. There were a number of floating gin palaces in dock - very ostentatious we felt but Del Boy would have been impressed!  Lunch was yummy, fish and chips all round, so we departed suitably warm and replete.

Next stop was the Tower of London and London Bridge where sadly we caught up with the rest of the world and in particular tourists.  Damn tourists, why can't they all stay put in the Provinces?!  A quick gander at M & M's favourite restaurant by the Tower, then we walked over the bridge and back to the South Bank.  Unbelievably there were some geraniums in full bloom on the bridge - they must have a micro climate here!

As we passed City Hall (Boris's gaff) we decided we had time for a little look.  In past security, bags x-rayed and up in the lift to the viewing deck on one of the upper floors.  The room seemed to be set up for some sort of reception but we continued through the doors to the outside - only to be accosted by a security chappie who told us in no uncertain terms that we weren't allowed to be there.  He must have wondered what we had in our backpacks!  Water and muesli bars, that's all!  Hardly Al Qaeda!

Suitably chastened and ejected we carried on towards London Bridge, arriving early for the Uckfield Express departure.  So time for a quick coffee in All Bar One - how lovely, our drinks came with shots of Smarties! - and just in time for the train.  Farty and TB very kindly joined us as far as East Croydon where we took our leave, then the Express stopped at every single station all the way back to Uckfield.  As you do (or it does)

We decided that it really had been a brilliant day, so different, interesting and great fun.  Urban walks were declared a winner! so we will try to plan some more, possibly Tunbridge Wells and Lewes.  Miss Nohills and Mrs P would love another London walk but first need to recover from the excitement of a day in The Big Smoke!  We're still lying down in a darkened room to recuperate!

The Fearless Three Go Mad at St Johns

Venue:  The Joshua Tree/The Plough, St Johns, Redhill

Walkers:  Farty, TB and Mrs P

Distance:  7 1/2 miles

Time taken:  3 hours, plus a bit for stopping and chatting

Weather:  Slightly foggy to start, lovely sunshine later

Find of the walk:  Lots and lots of lovely doggies!


Despite worrying forecasts of fog fog and more fog, the Fearless 3 arrived on time at the Joshua Tree to find plenty of other people had the same idea so no parking spaces to be had.  We swiftly drove over to park at The Plough and after exchanging the usual pleasantries - and after TB had taken a Very Important Phone Call from his local councillor! (more later!)- off we went.

We headed east in the hope that some road walking would minimise the amount of mud to plough through.  As it turned out, we needn't have worried as it was surprisingly OK underfoot, we returned later with boots that were almost clean!
First stop was at our friend the garage man. He seemed pleased to see us (I'm sure he could well do without being interrupted in his work but is far too polite to say!).  Much admiring of his machinery and dare I say it - tools!  He's currently restoring a farm machine from 1930's America and also a hedge trimmer that Mrs P felt would be just the job for sawing up the enormous oak that crashed down on her garden and road just before Christmas!  He told us that he volunteers at a couple of museums, both of which he reckoned are well worth a visit - Tilford Rural Life Centre just south of Farnham, and Amberley Museum and Heritage Centre in West Sussex.  If you like that sort of thing ....So, leaving him in peace (at last) we headed off towards Reigate Park.  This time we walked into the park itself and stopped at Priory Pond for elevensies - or twelvsies actually! The park is really lovely, full of dogs walking their owners and the pond was a vision of ducks, geese and swans.  How lucky to have such a gorgeous place bang in the middle of town.
We dragged ourselves away and followed the Greensand Way.  We carried on past the turning to Skimmington Castle and towards the lovely hamlet of Trumpets Hill and Little Stanton Farm.  We then noticed the ominous notices! tied to a tree, rather soggy and misty so difficult to read but it appeared as if the 2 footpaths we needed to take were closed.  Bother!  It meant turning round and quite a bit of road walking. However, we decided that rules were made to be broken so carried on regardless, and just as well as there was no sign of any work or damage.  Jobsworths just like to make life difficult!

It seemed almost spring-like today, some early blossom on a tree, birds singing (some beautiful robins) and the sun came out too!  A number of sad looking horses in fields and loads and loads of friendly dogs.  Mostly friendly owners but the odd one choosing to ignore us - well, their loss as they say!

Talk turned, as ever, to a number of subjects, particularly today the threatened arrival of 'speed tables' and a 20 mph speed limit in Mon & Martin's road.  They're now on first name terms with their local councillor and were heading off to a local ward/parish meeting after the walk - Mon with her banner! - to do battle.  The other subject being TB's little op which is looming - but I promised to resist the temptation to make any jokes!  Good luck on all fronts as they say!

Back to the cars and as we were parked at the Plough we decided to stay to eat.  Good move!  A friendly welcome, more friendly dogs, a spot for the 3 of us in the tiny snug and a yummy lunch.  The |Plough is one of those unusual places - an old fashioned, non-gastro pub and according to the bar staff it's been chock full every weekend so far this month. How sad so many pubs are closing and how good to find a traditional one left.  A lovely day all round!


 No more walks planned at the moment so watch this space, possibly when the weather improves.  Hoping for a drier February!!

Never Never Land - The Aladdin's Lamp

Tuesday 17th December

The Walk That Never Was

Virtual Walkers: Farty, T.B., 8 Legs, Windy, Mrs P., Sally, Lil, Clat, George Clooney, Omar Sharif, Robert de Niro, Miss World (for t.b.), Dougal (from magic roundabout for Minnie).

Distance: 10 miles
Find of the Walk: a crock of gold

We were all on time, in our pristine Berghaus outfits et al. Clat had her new walking boots - Brashers, which she thinks could be Australian, in 'Brasher yourself Sheila' - we all looked fab. Off we went , along a perfectly dry footpath in the middle of all the wet and the mud. We noted cyclamen, snowdrops, winter cactus, forsythia, all in full bloom and smelling fragrant. The sun was shining, but not too hot so we didn't have to remove anything.
The route took us towards a tinkling river, and that of course meant a bit of relief had to be taken. In the undergrowth we discovered a spotlessly clean lavatory, with heated seat, flushing water, and the softest loo roll that there has ever been. A fairy attendant (not a gay guy on board sort),magically appeared, with cleansing cloths, warm towels and lip balm, and we were soon on our way. We climbed to a height of Ben Nevis, taking in the wonderful landscape of castles, reindeer, snow, sleigh bells and a glimpse of something red flitting through the sky, saying ho ho ho.
Over the rainbow we stopped at an inviting Starbucks, offering free coffees and refreshments, and took our fill. We carried on, through a glacier, not slipping once, and Minnie discovered this part of the trail was littered with dog chews and jewel-encrusted collars. We vaulted stiles, and marveled at how we had all won the lottery the week before. The snow began to fall, but somehow none of us got wet, and soon it was time to head for home and the pub. On our return, we discovered that our boots didn't have a mark on them, and our clothes were clean and dry. Into the pub we went, and were told that all the computers were down, and all food and drink was on the house. After some real cordon-bleu cooking, washed down with premier cru stuff and the bestest of ales, it was time to leave. Our chauffeur-driven cars were waiting for us, to take us home- and back to reality. Have a lovely Christmas everyone !! xxxxx Next walk due on January 7 2014.

 Happy New Year. Virtually, Clat xxx

Southwater - Bax Castle

Southwater - Bax Castle

Tuesday 10th December

In which we make a spectacle of ourselves.  No change there then!

Walkers: Eight legs, Farty, TB, and me.  Clat joined us for lunch.  She's trying to find a new pair of walking boots with no success.  Dan the boot man makes her sound like she's got half her leg turned up, describing her feet as long, thin, and flat.  Cheek!

Find of the walk: reading glasses

The day started badly as I'd stopped at the bakery to buy our favourite flapjacks only to be told that they were too hot to cut up.  "What!", I shrieked, "What a disaster, are you sure, my friends will be distraught, can you please check again?"  The assistant looked nervous at this slight overreaction, but confirmed this was the case.  On arriving at the pub I relayed this news.  Couldn't you have brought the whole tray, Chris asked.  That girl's got an answer for everything.  She was suffering today having been bitten on the heel by a bug while in the garden.  She was worried it might have been caused by a lethal spider, and kept checking her leg for signs of rising inflammation, or damp.  Luckily she made it through the night but I'm not sure wearing flip flops in this weather was a good idea!

the bar at The Bax

This pub is a bit off the beaten track and some of us had gone wrong and overshot the Cock (pub). We've all done it.  We got underway and soon found our find of the walk, a pair of reading glasses which some of us tried out.  I peered through them at Farty's map and seemed to be reading something about Roy Castle until I realised I was looking at her notes about the pub.  They were a bit on the weak side.

We were soon plunged into mud, the claggy stuff.  You could throw a pot, said Farty, but we weren't that angry.  Yet.  We passed a farm and the mud turned to cow slurry.  This walk is shitty, I said to Farty.  She looked offended.  I only meant underfoot.  A lot of the pathways had been churned up by horses, and we decided that they really shouldn't be allowed on bridleways.  At this point we'd gone off track a bit and TB's compass was playing up, probably due to our magnetic personalities, but Farty got it sorted and we were on our way again.  The next obstacle was a field containing a horse wearing a balaclava. (Honestly).  This sort of thing is always a worry for Sue and Chris.  Who could forget the Dorset stampede?  We scuttled through and threw ourselves over the stile at the other side of the field.  The horse looked at us disdainfully.  We reached a crossroad where bizarrely a Bill and Ben scenario had been arranged.  As you do.  There was no sign of Little

Weed,  but I seem to remember she spent a lot of time in the potting shed with the gardener.

We were musing about the great and the good who were attending Nelson Mandela's funeral.  All are there except the Queen.  Apparently she's gone on to shorthaul, and Charle's is doing longhaul, but not back to backs.  We're full of admiration at how the Queen places a wreath at the cenotaph and walks backwards down the steps.  If it was our mothers there'd be carnage.  They can't even walk forwards, and the wreath would fly through the air ending up round Philip's neck.  Lots of signs today warning that no dumping was allowed, so we resisted the urge.

Nearly there now, and we found ourselves on a disused rail track, which was a relief after all the mud.  We got back to the pub and quickly peeled off muddy boots and gaiters and legged it into the pub to be greeted by signs saying "Deadline for complaints was yesterday" and "No specials due Xmas", but a very nice young man gave us a warm welcome - cue kittenish behaviour by some of us (TB), and we were soon ensconced at a table.  No sooner had we got settled than Sue and Chris announced that they were slowly cooking due to warm air vents under their banquette.  Nothing worse.  Sue had to move.  After much huffing and puffing two charming gentlemen at the next table kindly offered to move so we could sit together and avoid the vents.  We thanked them and said we'd tried this ploy before, and it worked every time.

Minnie had her glam/military look in her combat jacket, but Sue changed her for lunch into a festive number, and back to combat later on.  Minnie had a bit of a growl at this.  You could almost hear her thinking "I may look like Naomi Campbell, but I'm not a piece of meat you know"  Sue said she'd got a bit grumpy as she'd got older, and so had Minnie.  We're all sweetness and light of course, especially at this time of year in Tesco.  A man entered the pub with two gorgeous black labradors.  They were beautifully behaved and obeyed the owner's every command - gestures only.  This was all too much for Minnie, they were showing off, making her feel quite queasy.  She'd already had a nauseous moment earlier, fortunately before the food arrived.  Speaking of which, the food was great.  Fish pie, steak pie, channel cod......a rather off-putting description, making you think of pollution and shipping lanes, but it was delicious.

Time for TB to regale us with snippets from the health pages of the Daily Mail informing us of the many diseases we may contract.  One story concerned someone with a permanently runny nose.  "Nasal drip", said Farty.  Don't take that tone with me!  Apparently it's due to a permanently damp vestibule......some of us have that problem, and it's not necessarily in the nasal area.

 

Just time to admire Farty's new Peruvian-style hat, which goes beautifully with her middle-east style scarf. Very multi-cultural. You can tell she's from Carshalton. 

See you next week for probably the last walk of the year.  Where did that year go?

TTFN, love Wendxx