3 September 2011 (Saturday) - Lenham and Fudge
One of the things the doc suggested to cure my insomnia was to cut out caffeine. I’m now onto day three on caffeine-free coffee, and I did sleep reasonably better last night. I was still wide awake at 6am worrying about that over which I have absolutely no control, but better 6am than 4am, eh?
I then had a bit of a sulk. This time last year I was camping at Sumner’s Ponds. I could have been camping again this weekend – some months ago I’d had an invite to a birthday party at Sumner’s Ponds. But I turned it down because I’d arranged to go to London. The plan was to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum, and then on to a sci-fi exhibition at the British Library.
But I decided against going. In a rare triumph of common sense over idiot enthusiasm I realised that I couldn’t afford it. Just getting me and ‘er indoors TM to London will cost about forty quid. By the time we’ve bought lunch (fifteen to twenty quid) and had the obligatory pub stop (fifteen to twenty quid) and bought a couple of souvenirs, we could easily have spent over a hundred quid.
This month I shall need that hundred quid to pay my petrol costs of my (hopefully temporary) reassignment to the Kent and Canterbury Hospital
After a morning wasted playing worms, this afternoon we went on one of our AA recommended guided country walks – this time round Lenham. We started shortly after 1pm, and we started off with a rather interesting incident.
The route we were taking was quite clearly marked across some fields, and then through three gates. The map clearly said to follow the footpath through three gates, and each of the gates had footpath signs on them. As we went through the gates, I realised we were passing some rather posh houses in East Lenham: houses at which the arky-ologee club has dug before. And sitting outside the poshest house was a couple from the arky-ologee club. So I gave them a cheery hello.
They obviously didn’t recognise us, as the bloke rudely turned his back and went into the house, and the woman very rudely started a tirade at us about her being sick of hikers using the footpath, and weren’t there any other footpaths we could use. Her tone was one that I might use when cursing the dogshit I’d just stepped in.
And having gone from enjoying a lovely day in the autumn sunshine I was suddenly just as bad tempered as she was. My mood didn’t last long, but who do these people think they are? I will confront her about her attitude when we next meet. Which will be at the next arky-ologee club meeting. And I tackle her in front of all her cronies. Rather loudly, rather obviously, and rather embarrassingly.
After a few hundred yards walking my snit subsided. Which was probably just as well. It was too nice a day to be sulking. And we continued our walk, pausing only occasionally to talk to the sheep. We did have a little part of the route where we went astray – the written instructions told us to walk along a lane looking for a stile by a sign for a fruit wholesaler. We couldn’t find any signs for a fruit wholesaler, but we found a stile just after a sign advertising industrial units. It was possible the fruit wholesaler had gone bust in the meantime, but I thought it best not to take any chances. So we abandoned that part of the walk, and continued along the lane to pick up where our route would eventually have come out.
We found ourselves passing Chapel Farm, and knowing that the arky-ologee club were digging there, we thought we’d call in. These arky-ologists were pleased to see us, and four feet under the field’s topsoil they’d found what they thought was an ancient ditch. (Those long winter evening must just fly by…)
We chatted for a few minutes, then continued on our way. At one point we walked through a field of beans. The plants hadn’t been harvested, and had all been left to go black. As far as the eye could see, there were bean plants unharvested and going bad. What was that all about?
And so back to the car, and after a much deserved bottle of pop we went round to Grafty Green to see if their pond section had any fish food. The young lad on the counter (aged about twelve) had the most expensive fish food I’d ever seen, so we gave that a miss and came home, where over tea we met our latest grand-pet. I am already a grandfather to two guinea pigs and two cats. Now I have a grand-dog. Fudge seems rather like hard work, but “My Boy TM ” seems rather taken with him. I suppose to his credit, Fudge is a quiet dog. I’m told Fudge will come visiting from time to time. I wonder if Fudge will come round to drop off his laundry like his owner does….