Over
brekkie I peered into the Internet. Pretty much nothing at all had happened on
Facebook; I blame the awful weather we had yesterday.
I
had a email reply from some chap on the committee of the Geocaching Association
of Great Britain. He was keen that I stood for their committee, but also
suggested that rather than being on their committee, I might consider being a “friend”. I’ve
agreed to that to see if I can find out more of what goes on with the GAGB. At
the moment no-one seems to be able to tell me how they are different from any
other caching group.
And
then my piss boiled when I read a “did not find” log on one
of my geocaches. The log was dated a couple of days ago. Ironically dated the
day before I saw it when I walked past it with the dogs.
When
people write their logs to say they didn’t find a film pot which had been
stuffed under a rock they really should say “I didn’t find it”. Saying “it
wasn’t there” when clearly it was just wastes my time going out to check (luckily
I didn’t have to this time), and can deter others from going looking for it.
We
loaded ourselves and our gear and our luggage into the car and set off. Our
first port of call was the co op where I wanted to use their cash machine. The
car park at the co op winds me up. With space for thirty cars, no one parking
there seems to realise there is up to thirty more cars there. Everyone drives
as though they are the only person in the car park, and consequently you take
your life in your hands as you go through the place.
As
we drove up the motorway I had the munzee app open. People have put virtual
munzees along the length of the motorway, and so I munz-ed all the way up to
when we turned off at the M26.
It
wasn’t long before we were at the designated parking spot for today’s walk.
Karl, Tracey and Charlotte had beaten us there by a couple of minutes. And just
as we were about to set off, the chap who’d hidden the caches pulled up to say
hello.
We
had a rather good walk. Bearing in mind my eye problems of the last week, it
was good to be able to go out. We started off seeing a sight – what we were
told was one of the biggest ant hills in the country. It was *huge*.
Treacle
carried logs twice her size and climbed trees. Fudge disgraced himself by
charging off after pheasants and rolling in fox poo. Pogo was remarkably
well-behaved around the other dogs we met, but we did laugh when he tried to
walk over a water trough and fell in. I laughed until I realised that the water
trough wasn’t one in use, and was filled with stagnant slop. Then I realised
why everyone else was laughing.
Poor
Pogo.
After
a couple of hours we were back at the cars. We had a spot of lunch, then walked
on. Bearing in mind that if we stopped for a pint we’d probably never start
again, we walked past the pub into Apps Hollow where we had another rather good
walk. Mind you I must admit that I was amazed to find an old armchair in the
woods. Someone had taken the trouble to carry an old armchair half a mile into
the woods. Surely it is easier to take it to the tip?
The
second half of our walk was a tad hillier than the first, and there were quite
a few pheasants (which wound Fudge up no end). Half-way
round the rain started. Yesterday the rain had been torrential. We were amazed
at how non-muddy today’s walk had been, and how glorious the weather was in the
morning. But as the day wore on so the blue sky gave way to grey. I checked the
weather forecast. Where this morning we’d had promises of a dry day, we now had
predictions of a wet afternoon.
Weather
forecasts are one of many things which annoy me. To be fair to them, a year or
so the BBC’s weather forecast app on my phone was (usually) reliable.
Nowadays the thing is basically pot-luck and whoever controls the app just
changes what the short-term prediction is to fit with what the weather is
actually doing.
The
plan had been to sit in the pub’s beer garden for a pint or two after we’d
walked. But the rain was getting heavier, and the pub looked to be a tad posh.
Too posh for us to sit inside caked in mud and dripping wet. So we pushed on to
the cars where we said our goodbyes and made our way home.
I took a few
photos whilst we’d walked.
I
munz-ed rather productively on the drive home. I’d set off this morning as a
level thirty-eight munzer and came home as level fifty-two.
Once
home I got out the rake and cleared up the sycamore leaves that were covering
the lawn and filling the pond. There is a sycamore tree three doors down the
road which is probably about twenty metres higher than any tree should be in a
residential area. I filled a dustbin with the fallen leaves, then went and had
a whinge at the people who live three doors down. They didn’t seem overly fussed
until I pointed out that according to law I’m supposed to return to them
anything which falls from the tree, so would they like me to dump a dustbin
full of leaves in their front garden. I doubt the whinge will achieve anything;
I remember our slightly insane next door neighbour having a go at them about
their tree some years ago when the tree was quite a bit shorter.
"er indoors TM" boiled up a rather good bit of
dinner, then set off bowling. I watched more episodes of “Power”; I hope
our heroes get arrested and go to prison for a *long* time. The more I
watch the show the more convinced I become that leading a law-abiding decent
life is a mug’s game…
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