For us, Sundays have become days of walking. Or more accuratly, rambling. I met a guy through photography who just happens to run the local branch of the Ramblers Assoc. and so it seemed a pleasant way of keeping fit and meeting new people.
I say meeting people; the sort of people we do meet fit a certain demographic, which means I guess that we do now. Most seem highly educated, proffesional, and either retired or semi retired.
OK, I'm working on some of those, the retirement bit. But still waiting for that lottery win.
Anyway, it's a nice group of people.
I'll stop there, because I have now angered my first proper Englaish Language teacher by using the word nice. It was banned in her class. As was pretty. She thought there were better words that could and should be used instead.
She was right, of course.
The group is full of interesting people, and I guess we can come over as interesting. I mean I travel the world looking for oil and gas, which is better than some jobs I guess. And so we find someone to walk with, and find some subject to talk about. All the while we wander through hedgerows and through fields and mavel at what is the Kentish countryside in spring.
This weekend we started the walk from a castle. Not a well known castle, but Wolmer Castle is interesting, and is a twin of nearby Deal Castle. It's hard to explain, but the castle is made in a four leafed clover shape, with another
, smaller one offset on top. Must have been hard to attack with all those round walls.
Anyway, we headed off from the castle and the stony beach, up a narrow path into the rolling downs that is the way the land lies in this part of Kent. Once at the top we had views of the village of Kingsdown below, and beyond the English Channel, and twenty or so miles away, France.
So, once walking to the highest point above the village, we turned and headed back down again, through more fields and hedgerows, meeting the occasional startled cow or horse.
The best thing about Rambling is the stop at the village pub, and a half or pint of the local ale, and maybe something to eat as well. These half day walks mean that we don't have to worry about getting a headache on the walk in the afternoon, just as long as one of us can drive back.
This week it was my turn to drive, as Jools soothed her aching feet with cider. Yes, cider. On top of 6 miles rambling, maybe cider wasn't the best idea, but she felt it wasked the pain away in her feet.
On the way back, we stopped off at a another pub we knew that was less crowded being off the beaten track, and did great food. So, me with a pint of Spitfire, ad Jools with another cider, we sat outside and watched the world go by as we tucked into a wonderful ploughmans.
A ploughmans is usually made of cold cuts, chunky bread, pickle, apple, and a selection of salad. It has emerged that the name was the product of a cheese marketing campagn in the 60s, but I won't hold that againt the humble, but delicious ploughmans.
Needless to say, we headed home and a snooze on the sofa was called for, and that is what we did.
In the evening we had a bonfire, and stared into the glowing embers and pondered the human condition. Oh, and I had a glass or two of malt. Which is what such a task required.
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