Thursday 31st July
Walkers: Mrs P, Sue and Minnie, Mon,
TB and me
Length of walk: 5 miles
The Tornado whips up a storm.
A welcome return to some Rahra
rambling which has been on hold for a while due to mud, elderly parents and
general debility! We met up at West Hoathly car park and set off to
the Bluebell Railway crossing near Sharpthorne tunnel in time to see the
magnificent Tornado steam past. Farty had kindly sorted out a timetable
of viewing points for us. We waited expectantly. We thought we
heard a toot but it may have been TB as he had his ear nervously pressed to the
track a la Tonto. He's now sporting what he describes as his ear trumpets
and doesn't miss a thing, making it tricky to talk about him. Other
enthusiastic fanatics were there. If only it had been slightly cooler we
could have worn our anoraks. I stood poised, camera in hand.
"Wend, you're facing the wrong way" said Farty despairingly.
Actually, when the train appeared it was back to front, so that might have
worked. We would have preferred full frontal though.
Time for the walk proper to begin,
and we set off through glorious countryside, the sun beating down, passing
lovely cottages and properties, one with a black horse with rigor mortis in the
garden. Eh? A very convincing model. Some road walking was
required alongside the Weir Wood reservoir. All very windy, hilly, and
treacherous, with cars whizzing perilously close. One driver shouted
"get off the road!" and got a few two and one fingers. Don't
mess with us! Luckily we caught up with a school group and followed their
rather stern teacher's instructions to "KEEP IN LINE", and
"CAR!" The children eyed us warily, having just witnessed our rather
unseemly hand gestures. Were we perhaps escapees from the home for the
bewildered? We thankfully left the road and stopped for refreshments by
some huge limestone rocks that you often see in this part of the world.
Mrs. P kindly provided chunks of Alan's birthday cake. He may not be best
pleased when he next revisits the cake tin! At this point TB needed a
lavatree break, and was about to expose all when the school children
reappearred. This would have been the final straw for the poor mites.
They were already traumatised by our earlier behaviour, and as Farty said, the
last thing they needed was a Rolf Harris moment. This reminded me that my
sister had a Rolf Harris moment years ago at a book signing, when having signed
his book, Rolf stood up and kissed her full on the lips! She was
mortified, turned puce and fled. He just laughed. Just shows you,
his tentacles spread far and wide. And other things that sound similar.
Time to move on, and we found
ourselves in a shady glade where we came upon.......MUD! NOOO! I
don't mind it as you know. Mrs. P suffered some sock seepage, though it
didn't look particularly mud coloured. As Farty said, you often don't
know you've got the squits until you take your bicycle clips off. That
Roedean education certainly paid off. Next was quite a steep hill which
took us to our next vantage point on the Bluebell to view another train.
TB positioned himself in the middle of the track and received a toot for his
recklessness. We waved at the passengers and they waved back. We
love doing this, I don't know why, it's rather sweet and British! We were
conscious that time was marching on, our table was booked for 1.30, so we cut
the walk short slightly. This is always disappointing for TB and me, but
needs must. We got to the Cat with time to spare, and sank gratefully
into chairs outside under an umbrella. The food here is always good, if a
bit pricey, but you get what you pay for. The fish and chips were
excellent, as was Sue's ham egg and chips. During conversation it
transpired that Farty and TB have been invited to Mauritius by their gay
neighbour who is about to become High (camp) commissioner there. Sounds
like something from Gilbert and Sullivan. How fab though. They'll be
staying at the official residence and waited on by punkah wallahs. Those
were the days.
Just time to see the Tornado coming
the other way through Sharpthorne Tunnel, this time the right way round, (and
me!). Quite a spectacle, and reminiscent of the Railway Children.
We waved our knickers and truss (I didn't know Farty wore one), and went home
tired but happy.
See you all soon, Wend xxx
