More Sa xon Sh ore W ay

Only now it is getting difficult because it isn’t running conveniently from station to station – so we are having to break it down into circular walks which take in bits of it, and look wistfully as the Shoreway runs off into the distance, as we turn the corner and head back to the car the long way round.
We did this walk and it was beautiful, just strenuous enough, and interesting enough – and we got lost once – which means that I just HAVE to buy this.
We set off from Brockhill Country park – which lurks off the road so that you sail past it in the car and have to drive several miles before you can turn around and go back, then have to keep braking as you think that every driveway leads to the park.
After parking in the country park we crossed the road nearby and allmost straight away we joined the Saxon shoreway up this lovely path through woodland. We found these shaggy ink cap mushrooms – although I thought that mushrooms didn’t sprout(or whatever mushrooms do) until the autumn.
The path went on over the motorway and Eurostar track – luckily on two foot bridges!

The path then went steeply up hill – we were both hungry by then so stopped halfway up and had lunch in a field of barley (no – don’t break into song) It was quite windy and the barley looked like silk rippling in the wind – tried both to photograph and video it – but I couldn’t capture it.
At the top of the hill you could see the sea – fantastic view.
We met this little chap with his earrings, and then back into woodland.
We were onto Ministry of Defence land now – but luckily didn’t find any unexploded bombs – only this rather fine bivouac.
Here is an arty farty picture which made Jill say ‘Oh, Mum’ -look – she is cleverly reflected in a blind spot mirror. Give me a camera and I will photograph anything.
Down the hill – one of us ran.
The other sedately followed.
A little further on and the Saxon shoreway went on through this railway arch
-doesn’t it look inviting – but we turned and followed the much less trampled Elham Valley Way.
We were still on MOD land – look at the warning sign with these rather cuddly looking soldiers!
This used to be the railway between Fplkestone and Canterbury – lovely now but sad that it has gone.
The next part felt as if we were fighting our way through jungle – reeds and brambles up to our necks – but we managed to get through to the gate where a soldier would obviously be needed to stop anyone getting through if it had been left open.
Shortly after this we got lost – I know not how – but after climbing a gate and crawling under a fence Jill’s superb mapreading skills got us back on course.
After skirting this hill
it was almost a straight run parallel to the motorway to get us back to the bridge across into the woods leading back to the car park.
One last tree.


Phil and I went to see this two hour romp through paedophilia, murder, psychiatry and restorative justice tonight. At the interval there was a smattering of applause as people sat wondering whether to move or not. It was a harrowing evening – the actor playing the murderer was almost too good.
As remarked above – I am shallow – and get enough angst at work – so would rather see a good musical or comedy. For those who like to be harrowed it was a brilliant play.


Today my lovairrrrr and I went to Highgate Cemetery. You may have noticed that I love cemeteries, I wonder what people were like and how they had lived their lives. I have a bad habit of saying ‘aww’ at the children’s graves, and by the end of today I would not have been surprised if my lovairrr had not picked up a gravestone, clouted me round the head with it and shoved me in with some three year old who had roused my sympathy.
We had a great day out – John picked me up and drove us up there – almost right to the gate.
When we arrived there were several Police Officers looking very beautiful in their number one uniforms, a few soldiers, a couple of vicars and a photographer or two.
They were all there to dedicate a gravestone over a man who had been awarded the Victoria Cross in India at Lucknow, joined the Metropolitan Police, and then died of consumption in 1861 at the age of 30. He was buried in a paupers grave and it has taken until now (when people can spare the time and money from just surviving) for a gravestone to be erected.
Sir Ian Blair turned up, and had a little chat with one of the vicars, who seemed a little religiously confused as he was wearing what appeared to be a Jewish skullcap – hedging his bets?
They had even wheeled out a Chelsea Pensioner.
While they were having their little service at the graveside, we walked through the East cemetery. Obviously went past Karl Marx,his tombstone must be one of the ugliest in the entire cemetery.
There were some beautiful ones –

and I loved this one – extremely factual.
After the great, good and self important had left the soldiers grave we went to have a look, and found the BBC still there.
They don’t make gravestones like they used to.
We went over to join the guided tour of the older West Cemetery – it is the only way that you are allowed in now, which is a great shame as it would be lovely just to wander where you wanted to.
We were taken around all the highlights – the cedar tree,

the Egyptian catacombs the wonderful lion on the top of George Wombwell the menagerist, and Mrs Henry Wood. I liked this sleeping angel the best though.
Afterwards we walked down the lane to look for somewhere to eat, past this village behind a fence.

Even the Tesco was posh.
We had lunch in a small cafe, where I again fell in love with the waiter – he had the most divine voice. There was a view of my future across the road in front of the pub.I like the idea of a young man pandering to my wheelchair bound whims.
After lunch we walked up into Parliament Fields and watched the kite flyers and looked out over London.We drove home through the rush hour which took a Very Long Time.
Here is a picture of my handsome lovaiiiiirrrrr.

Small Print:- Obviously my lovaaaiiiirrrr is NOT my lovaaaiiirrr in any physical or deeply meaningful way – I am far too virtuous despite my prediliction for European waiters – and he has Far Better Options than me. I also have a lovely husband of my very own.

In which nothing happens

I have been working non-stop to pay for my excesses.
After hearing those wonderful Shakespeare sonnets, and visiting Sissinghurst and learning about Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville West – I am reading Paul Burrells ‘A Royal Duty’
I am obviously a very shallow person.