I was rather aching this morning; I’m a
little surprised really. Yesterday’s walk wasn’t especially arduous. I
struggled out of my pit after a good night’s sleep and after a quick bit of
brekkie we had a message. A cancellation. So a reduced contingent set off to
the Admiralty where we collected more, and then on to the Valiant Sailor (oo-er!) where we rallied the last of the
troops.
In a novel break with tradition today wasn’t
about geocaching. Instead we went for a walk around the hills across the top of
Folkestone. Six of us (and three small
dogs) strolled along the footpaths across the top of Crete Road East and
down to the top of Crete Road West where we looked across to Sugar Loaf Hill.
As I wrote last week, Sugar Loaf Hill is where they got the idea for Mount
Everest from. There were the more sensible amongst us who took the level route which
cut out a lot of the hill. There were also those who thought that you couldn’t
say that you’d climbed the hill unless you had done so. From the bottom. In
retrospect that was one of my sillier ideas.
Once at the top we spent five minutes gasping
for air, and then found the geocache at the top. (We had to do one!) And then we had a spot of lunch. The views from
the top were spectacular.
We then came partly down and followed the
path along to Caesar’s camp, scaring the long-horned cattle as we went. The
long-horned cattle amazed me. For large animals with particularly vicious
looking horns they are incredibly timid. Fudge slipped the lead (when I fell down the hill) and chased
one. This cow was a hundred times his size and was equipped with two-foot long
daggers on its head, but it ran away from the dog in terror.
Bearing in mind that it is a long time since
we last went underground, the idea was to do a little tunnel-ratting as we
went, and having Furry Face along helped our mission. When caught red-handed on
the wrong side of barbed wire fences (labelled
“keep out!”) it is often difficult to explain one’s self. However had we
been rumbled today we could have claimed we were retrieving an errant
Patagonian Tripe-Hound.
We got close to our two subterranean targets.
But only close. Both had been sealed to keep the likes of us from going
underground. So we conceded defeat and made our way slowly back to the Valiant
Sailor (oo-er!) for a crafty pint.
There are photos
of our walk on the internet. Quite scenic ones too, even if I do say so
myself. There’s some wonderful views for be had from above Folkestone.
Finding ourselves back home several hours
earlier than has been usual on a Sunday recently I mowed the lawn. That was
hard work. It’s some time since the lawn was last mowed, and whilst having a go
at it I found an old bone that Fudge had been chewing. Or that is the lawn
mower found the bone. It did make a noise. Whilst the damage to the lawn mower
is quite severe, I think that it will live to mow the lawn again. It will just
do it *very* noisily. I then got the strimmer out to do the edges, and that struggled
to the point of collapse. If any of my loyal readers have any lawn-attacking
implements surplus to their requirements, I’m your man (!)
With ‘er indoors TM
off bowling I set about the monthly
accounts. Could be better; could be a whole lot worse. But what is money for;
if not to squander on a new lawn mower…
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