To begin with, nothing much happened, other than an encounter with a rather rude couple of cyclists who nearly forced me into a ditch. I harrumphed and complained to myself and then decided to focus instead on the early spring growth which is now becoming ever more apparent, until I chanced upon a rather delightful lady, taking a photo of a Chiffchaff, high in the trees above us. I was unreservedly positive about her endeavour with the result that we struck up a rather unexpected conversation. She demanded to know why I was looking so professional, complete with pack, water-bottle and guide-book, so of course I explained LEJOG to her. She was evidently much impressed and to my utter amazement, she told me that the previous day she had chanced to meet a fellow with a huge pack, who slept rough in the woods and who was on his way to Eastbourne! It had to be John!! I interrogated her for some time and convinced myself that indeed, she had come across John, who she felt was only a little more barmy than me!
Our conversation turned to her dog, a rather delightful, if slightly overweight terrier, and finally to the whole issue of travelling alone. We agreed that this conversation would never have happened if we had been in company, which is certainly true, though I was rather startled by her next assertion that this was precisely why she felt that she never wanted to marry. Too much baggage and what is more, an impediment to the meeting of chance strangers in the woods. We parted soon afterwards, with me silently thanking my lucky stars that Veronica is not of this opinion, and marvelling that a chance encounter could elicit such intimate information....
A little further along the track, I was suddenly accosted by a cyclist who skidded to a halt in front of me and demanded to know whether there were any policemen in the direction I had come from. I told him I hadn’t seen any and he informed me that the path he had been on was most irritatingly closed because a couple of rather rude coppers had insisted that they were looking for a vagrant who was reportedly sleeping rough in the woods. The description included grey hair and a very large pack!! It can only have been John! It was all I could do to restrain myself from heading into the bush to find him and to warn him that the law was after him! Until I reflected that he had surely been in this sort of a scrape before, and I couldn’t imagine that a short trip to the slammer would in any way have impacted the behaviour of a man who had spent twenty years living on the trails. I doubt that the city slickers ever found him! Seems I am going native already.
Talking of which, I was puffing up Box Hill, which is by my standards, quite a climb when I passed a couple of City folk heading downwards. I sang out the obligatory “Good Morning!” in my very best English accent, only to be greeted with a response to the effect that my map simply wasn’t comprehensive enough to have guided me for eight thousand miles! He had sussed my Suf Efrikan accent in two words!! This is really disturbing! Here I am, trying to melt seamlessly into the local scene and my cover is blown in two words!
A little later, I bumped into a lovely, elderly couple and he, having listened to me, wanted to know whether I was Irish. I was in the process of explaining my complicated provenance, when suddenly he said, “I know some horses!” I was trying to work out the connection when his wife swept in from left field, took him by the hand and explained to me that he had Alzheimer’s and sometimes got a little confused. Strangely, he didn’t look confused to me, just happy, but she looked very worried and I felt hugely sorry for her. He probably did know some horses....
Today was all about up and down, and excellent training for LEJOG. Tomorrow, I do the second leg and I am even staying overnight in a B&B really to get the flavour of the thing (and also to save Veronica from what is now becoming a fairly onerous ferrying service). But I will leave you with just one further anecdote, which I hope is somehow portentous. I had decided to listen to the news about this horrible business in Libya and the enormously important business in Chennai and so had retrieved my earphones from my back-pack. About 5 km further on, I started to fire up my radio and suddenly remembered that I had failed to pick up the ear-phones from the stand where I had left them at the top of Box Hill. I might remind you that on this early spring day, Box Hill was a scrum of people, literally hundreds. Nevertheless, when Veronica collected me, I asked her to take me back to Box Hill, just in case. To our utter amazement, they were still there, exactly where I had left them three or four hours earlier!! Restores your faith, doesn’t it!
Not something one would see in the Kogelberg!
The lady with the Chiffchaff and the terrier...
A railway bridge over a track in the middle of nowhere. Engineeringly excellent and architecturally elegant. Those rich Victorians had clear ideas about how to spend their money!
Beautiful, but I have no idea what it is!
Stepping stones over the River Mole. A new experience!
Reading the Guardian on the North Downs. How English!
Even more English! A certain Colonel Inglis bequeathed this pavillion to the public of Reigate. Why? Amazing!
And a rather special sunset in Reigate!
2 comments:
a youth spent in Vereeneging leaves an accent that is hard to eradicate ou swaar...
Yes, but after an eternity of traversing the globe and pretending to all and sundry that I am other, it is suprising that I have made no progress at all!
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