Withyham, The Dorset Arms

Tues 26th February.

Meandering with un petit choux.

Walkers: Sue, Chris, Farty, TB, Mrs P, (nice to see her again), Wind.

Distance: 6 1/2 miles

 

Find of the walk: A wooly hat.

A blustery cold day as usual as we gathered at the Dorset Arms.  We are now sick of winter and relentless grey skies.  Relentless grey should be on the Farrow and Ball colour chart. Mrs P and yours truly had their heads in the car boot gathering their walking gear, bums in the air, when TB approached from behind.  (In the car).  " I could tell it was you without seeing your faces" he said. Cheek.  Four cheeks.  Mon had kindly mapped out a route for us, and off we went immediately taking the wrong path.  So soon!  Farty said we could carry on, but it would mean missing the railtrack.  Faces fell.  Well mine did.  I like railways.  Have I mentioned the district line? Yes!  Shuuup!  We started again and found ourselves walking along an incredibly meandering river. Almost ox bow lakes for the geographically inclined.  A tributary of the Medway apparently.  Then we were on the railtrack, that's better, a continuation of the Forest Way which links up to the Worth Way.  So you could walk from Worth to Groombridge.  Not today thank you.  We passed a man on a bike with a purple face and yellow labrador.  One of my favourite colour combos. He was an excitable boy, running round our legs and the dog was quite friendly too.

Withyham Station 2013

Withyham Station in the 1960's

After a while (I'm sorry,you know I don't do miles and directions) we came upon the old Withyham station now a des res.  (Withyham was a railway station on the Three Bridges to Tunbridge Wells Central Line which closed in 1967, a casualty of the Beeching Axe.) It had an incredibly long platform. Did the Flying Scotsman use this line?  Mrs P and I came over all nostalgic. Again.  Mrs P used to live near a railway cutting,and as you know, I grew up with a track at the bottom of the garden.  The district line.  I may have mentioned this.  Carrying on, we spotted Cherry Farm organic shop.  We couldn't resist.  In we went and Farty bought some meatballs which we hoped were pork,and an amazing looking January King cabbage, purple and green, a bit like my face at the end of a walk.  Outside a huge Bentley had pulled up.  The driver got out, a stick thin woman with huge trout pout.  TB didn't think women should be allowed to drive such vehicles.  In her case we had to agree as the steering wheel must have been completely obscured by her enormous lips.

The few stiles we came across today were quite high, involving some straddling.  This reminded Farty of when her pubic bone, (Mon's Mound, it's not everyone that gives it a name) was more padded.  Redistribution of fat.  Tell me about it!  At Farty's yoga class they pivot on their pubic bone,which is a neat trick if you can manage it.  I hadn't heard of this manoeuver.  Well not in a yoga class.  Maybe in Bangkok?.....

Time for a break,which was taken by the Uckfield "Express" line.  Excitement was growing for Mrs P and I as a train was due.  Suddenly it appeared, but blink and you missed it, being only 2 carriages long.  Hardly the Tokyo bullet train.  On we went over a bridge spanning the river.  All around were special platforms (clapper bridge- classically, clapper bridges were built near fords, situating them close to established paths, and some were quite large.) enabling people to keep dry during floods.  We've got drains up our way sniffed Farty.  We know our place in the provinces.  The footpath led us through a farm which had a stern notice from farmer James asking people to avoid walking on his crops.  We tried but they did help us get a grip in the mud. Next stop was Balls Green.......Let's not go there.  At this point Farty said we could do some road walking to the pub or take a slightly longer off-road route.  It was a tough decision,and reluctantly we took the road.

Back at the Dorset Arms we were greeted by the friendly landlady who led us to a table next to a huge fireplace.  Luckily it wasn't lit,we know what Sue's like when she feels hot and hemmed in.  Bit like working in world traveller.  A jug of water was produced for us while we perused the menu.  We like that sort of thing.  Either side of the fireplace were 2 small doors.  Priest holes, we wondered?  But then realised they had to be discreet,not covered in ornate carvings and elaborate knockers.  I don't know how I'm restraining myself,Clat wouldn't!  On the wall above our table was what looked like an old door bell,just waiting to be pressed.  TB wondered if it was made of wood or bakelite.  I'm not sure why that was important,must be a boy thing.  We asked the landlady what would happen if we pressed it.  Nothing,she said.  A lot of us have unresponsive buttons like that.

 

While waiting for our food,and after taking his blood pressure tablets,TB steeled himself to read the Daily Mail,full as usual of seedy old blokes and inappropriate groping.  Reminded us of our flying days.  You didn't hear us complain. Some of us were quite grateful.  We wondered what sort of groping would be appropriate.  Luckily the food arrived before a full rant developed.

 

The food was excellent,a little more expensive than usual,but worth it.  Thank you Mon,good choice.  Next week TBA, probably more northerly!  Sorry, has this gone on a bit?  Once you start.....

Love Wend xx