The Hairy Hikers
Walkers: Farty, T.B., Windy, 2 Legs, Lil and Clat. Chris is appointmenting, and Mrs P is visiting her father-in-law.
Find of the Walk: The Car of The Year Entrant
Distance: 8.1 miles !!
Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, as the song goes - and something was certainly going to go our way. This must be the best weather-day of the year - we met, accompanied by the sounds of tweeting birds, and the crackle of gaiters being strapped on, and we were on our way.
We headed northwards, over fields and the roaring M25, and very upwards, through woods to attempt the summit. On the way, some smuttiness occurred after finding a loose footpath sign, and more, at the top, when Farty found The Mound, and did some very decorative, and inventive posing and straddling, from all angles. We entered the village of Chaldon, circa 1086 a.d., and found a hostelry called The Harrow which had coffee written all over it. The bar staff kindly served us 'early' and that's when the hairiness started. We had all got a bit hot, or, slightly warm in Clat's case, and various garments had to come off. Before we knew it, T.B. removed all of his upper clobber, and revealed a white and hairy torso - all dark hairs too - quite a revelation to some of us. This rippling example of manhood then re-arranged himself, and we all calmed down. Time to move off...
The views from the top were rather good, and we walked further over, and through some very naice posh houses, giving each one a mark out of ten on the way. We arrived at Queen's Park - not the Harry Redknapp kind, and not one for the gays either - but very pleasant. Some more naiceness followed, and we started for downhill. Halfway down, T.B. slithered and fell - cushioned, conveniently, by Farty. He damaged his hand and little finger, which hardened and swelled a bit, so from then on he became known as Mr Stiffy. Clat was anxious to use the ice packs bought after her fall last year, and once she realised how to use them, the swollen pinky was wrapped in a blanket of icy fabric.
We arrived at the bottom of a hill, and Caterham School, which is also very naice - they play hockey here, don't you know. The path then went upwards again - a sheer 1:1 we reckon as it was soooo steep. Windy had to have a rest even before she started, and we puffed, panted, stopped and started (and something to rhyme with that), as we made our way to yet another summit. Water was administered at the top, and inevitably, we had to go down again.On the map, it looked like a man's appendage, so we reached the tip, and turned left, coming out to a viewpoint - marvellous, but spoilt by a couple of idiot boys sitting in a car, blasting all and sundry with their music(?) I guess you could now call this place Berk's Peerage - hahahahahahahah
Time to go again, and we carried on doing more down-hilling towards Godstone, over the motorway - we even got the horn from a lorry driver. Eventually we were back at base, and we wandered into the eaterie and had an excellent meal, even though it was just us in there. The food was freshly cooked, and on offer were the bottomless chips - as many as you care to eat. Windy as always, was served an enormous skewered chicken, and the prices were very acceptable.
So, next week, we have already decided to try Leigh again. We shall eat in the restaurant, rather than the bar, which has gone a bit sterile, and this will only change if we have torrential rain between now and then. See you then, then.
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