Tues 21st May 2013
"Tony Curtis is in the ladies'
loo!" Oh do frack off.
Walkers: Mrs P, Eight legs, Farty,
TB, Wind. Clat and Lil still carrying on up the Grand Canyon.
Find of the walk: Quilted phone
cover,ideal for TB's new phone,quite Chanel! TB is experiencing problems
with this phone. The annoying ring tone,sounding like several
xylophones,wasn't long enough to enable him to answer it,plus he didn't know
which button to press. (Common problem). Mrs P kindly offered to
ring him to help sort it out, so the two of them had a phone conversation while
standing next to each other.
Distance: 7 1/2 miles
Time: 3 1/2 hours
We met at the Victory car park under
leaden skies, and with a cold wind blowing. That'll be late spring
then? This is a really lovely area with big houses, some with Horsham
stone roofs, (sorry, I haven't been the same since Slaugham where there were
loads), and one with a hippo in the garden wearing headphones. Of
course. The whole place is full of woodland glades, (bluebells are still
in evidence. TB's arm had to be twisted to take more pics), and pretty
streams with steep embankments. One was a bit like a mini cheddar
gorge. We like gorging on mini cheddars. Minnie was fairly flying
along today. Suddenly we heard a shriek and Sue was reeling her in.
She'd very nearly caught a rabbit, actually got her chops round the unfortunate
bunny. A lucky escape, and plenty of small poos as a result, and I don't
mean Sue's. On we pressed passing some strange looking bug houses, we
think, with numbers on. Beetle Drive. Lots of wild garlic around
today. Isn't the lavender lovely, sighed Sue. She gets confused,
said Chris, you should smell her knicker drawer. This is chicken country
which delighted Farty and TB. Some lived in a posh gypsy caravan, others
in a detached house. Posh poultry round here. We speedily crossed
the pedestrian crossing over the busy London/Brighton line, although TB
deliberately took his time, causing some panic. Boys! The Railway
Children, Mrs P, TB and I waited for a train to wave at and were rewarded with
a wave back and a toot. It doesn't take much to please us! Next to
the line was a lovely house. We supposed you got used to the noise, but
not all of us could put up with constant tooting during the night.......
Next stop was Balcombe village where the local news is full of villagers' fears
of being fracked. Well, who wouldn't be concerned. Apparently this
is to do with extracting gas. Farty might benefit from a good
fracking. I'm sure TB would agree. While outside the local shop, we
narrowly avoided being run over by a car apparently being driven by Miss Marple
doing a ten point turn. Time to move on.
Lots of cows today, and Chris was on
alert, having cut out several articles regarding the poor man who recently got
trampled to death. David Blunkett got trampled too, he just didn't see
them coming. We blame the herdsman, but he never heard them coming.
Nightmare. Soon we were passing Old Hall, Maurice Saatchi's place.
60 acres, greenhouse like Crystal Palace, the usual thing. We noticed what
looked like the name Josephine carved into the lawn, overlooked by a statue of
a man waving. I've found out Maurice was married to novelist Josephine
Hart who died in 2011. Apparently he likes to eat his breakfast
grapefruit by her tomb next to the lake. Well if Google says so it must
be true. (Ed: Saatchi's first wife was Gillian Osband, a children's book editor and
writer whom he had had known since childhood and whom he married in
1972. They divorced in 1984 and that same year he married novelist Josephine Hart (1942-2011), whom he first met when they worked together at Haymarket Publications in 1967. She died on 2 June 2011) That was about it (sighs of relief) apart from coming across
some of those weird sandstone rocks we sometimes see in this neck of the woods,
complete with crushed petrified tree, (understandable).
Back at the pub we got settled and
perused the menu while piped music played Magic Moments by Perry Como.
we're not sure which market they're targeting, but it's not us, we're far too
young. One of the walls featured photos of old Hollywood stars, Douglas
Fairbanks, Clark Gable etc. and it's not every day you find Tony Curtis in the
ladies loo wearing swimming trunks. Surely these stars hadn't eaten
here? After we'd eaten lunch (delicious), we got chatting, and Sue and I
were talking about the many pubs we've visited, and how easy it was to confuse
them, the memories all a blur. I think it was pointing to my posterior
lobe, where these memories are stored (?!) that set Chris off.
"There she blows!" and hysteria ensued until the tears were running
down her legs. We hurriedly got the bill, mopped her up and left.
You can't take her anywhere.
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