An autumnal walk along the North Downs Way - Part Two

The second, and final day of my North Downs Way walk was, if anything, harder than the first. This was despite it being just over half the distance, in terms of actual miles walked. Two steep ascents, and the same number of equally precipitous descents didn’t help (what goes up, must come down), but neither did the fact that for much of the journey, I was walking through woodland.

Being in what is effectively an enclosed environment, means it becomes difficult to judge distance travelled or, indeed, how much further there is to go. Basically, one loses one’s sense of perspective! Getting lost a couple of times on the initial part of the journey, didn’t help much either, but all in all it was still an enjoyable day’s walking; even if it was rather different from the previous day. That, of course, is the beauty of the NDW, as the scenery and, quite often the terrain, are so varied.

I set off in high spirits, after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast following my overnight stop at the Black Horse, Thurnham.  Straight away, I was forced to gain height, in order to access the NDW, following the steeply climbing road up from the pub towards the remains of Thurnham Castle, high on the ridge overlooking the surrounding countryside.

The trail skirts the mound on which the castle is constructed, but according to my guidebook, there is precious little left of this 13^th Century fortification.  I should, of course have been paying attention to the guidebook – even though it is written for those travelling in an easterly direction, because after skirting the top of the hill that is home to the White Horse Country Park, I found myself trapped behind a barbed wire fence at the apex of a field.

I could see where I wanted to be but was reluctant to retrace my footsteps in order to regain the path. Fortunately, I manage to squeeze through a gap between the top of the fence and the string of barbed wire, although I had to remove both my rucksack and my coat in order to do so. This was a similar occurrence to what I’d experienced the day before, the common factor being the ownership of this area of the North Downs, by the Hucking Estate, and its management by the Woodland Trust.

A lack of signage on this section of the NDW, seems to be a common complaint, if the reports on TripAdvisor are anything to go by; the most appropriate one being “Be prepared to get very lost!” Shortly after my undignified scramble through the fence, I again found myself looking for the correct path. I was aiming for the village of Detling, and whilst I could see it below, and to my right, how to access the correct track seemed a complete mystery.

I sought advice from two women, out walking their dog, but they confessed they weren’t the best people to ask, as they too were lost. Fortunately, a knight in shining armour, in the form of another walker, came to our rescue. He put the two dog walkers on the right path, and then directed me to the steeply descending track that would take me down into Detling.  He also warned of an even steeper ascent as the NDW makes its way out of the village, on the other side of the busy A249 dual carriageway.

My route into Detling was from the east, and as I approached the heart of the village, I could see the Cock Horse pub directly in front of me. I was too early for opening time and it was too early for a beer as well, so after skirting the pub I headed for the crossing that would take me over the A249.

The footbridge known as "Jade’s Crossing," is named after eight-year-old Jade Hobbs who, along with her grandmother, was killed in 2000 whilst attempting to cross the A249. Despite this tragedy, and two earlier deaths, Kent County Council continued to resist calls for a protected crossing, until shamed into doing so by a fundraising campaign, led by local people. Walking across this footbridge with four lanes of traffic thundering underneath, it is difficult to imagine how the authorities could have been so callously short-sighted!

The guide I’d spoken to earlier was right about the steep climb back up to the escarpment, as the track through the trees Hermitage Lane, seemed to go on forever, passing a substantial, but now disused chalk quarry. I had a slight chuckle over the spoof entry that appeared in a local CAMRA pub guide 40 years ago, in response to plans to reopen the former Detling Lime Works, which was sited in this very chalk pit.

I was one of several people who went looking for the “Quarryman’s Arms,” an old pub that had “reopened, after standing empty for many years.” Local opposition to the quarry’s reopening must have been running strong, so I take my hat off to the two lads (both CAMRA members), who managed to hoodwink the editor by getting this fictitious entry, a place in the guide!

The NDW takes a sharp turn to the left at the top of this lane, and then follows the edge of a beech-wood for several miles. Boxley Wood merges into Westfield Wood, and whilst this section was on level ground, until the very end, quite frankly it was boring. Okay, it was nice to be out of the wind, and good to be on the flat, but with very little in the way of landmarks to act as guidance, it was difficult to know exactly where one was.

At times, the trail veered off deeper into the woods, whilst at others it left the shelter of the trees for the edge of a muddy field. I took no photos, as there was very little to capture on camera, but whilst the walk was boring, there were times when it felt a little creepy – almost as if I was being followed!

I wasn’t of course, although I was very nearly bowled over by a powerful female jogger who came bounding towards me, but returning to the subject of woodland walks, there is something slightly spooky, a sort of primeval fear that goes with walking alone, through a wood which never seems to end.

The wood did eventually end, but not before a lengthy, and at times quite steep descent through some dense and quite gloomy areas of woodland. In several sections there were steps cut into the slope, to make one’s descent easier, but even so I was mightily relieved to have brought my trusty walking stick along. Not only did it steady me during this tricky descent, it also stopped me tripping up over numerous, half-buried tree roots. A stick also gives added impetus on upward sections and helps one maintain a steady and rhythmic pace on level ground.

I emerged from the trees just past the White Horse Stone; a Neolithic megalith of some historic significance. I was feeling rather weary and footsore by this time and had already passed this large and unevenly shaped lump of stone, before I realised what it was. I certainly wasn’t persuaded to deviate the short distance from the trail for a closer inspection.

Instead I passed out of the woods and followed a path which led over the high-speed rail line, just before it disappears into a lengthy tunnel, beneath the mass of the looming Blue Bell Hill. After crossing the railway and then disappearing into the rather gloomy subway under the busy A229, there was just a short, half mile section of NDW left to walk, until I arrived at the place I’d started from on my walk to Cuxton, the previous month.

I now had to find a suitable public transport link that would get me home. There was the possibility of a bus, but that meant a mile or so of walking to the top of Blue Bell Hill. The alternative was a route march down into Aylesford. The latter was nearly twice as long as the former, but at least was downhill all the way, although the lack of a pavement made walking quite hazardous at times.

A more sensible option would have been to have walked up to the Lower Bell pub, ordered myself a well-earned pint and then phoned for a taxi! I wasn’t sensible, and unfortunately Rochester Road proved busier than anticipated, but there were verges for most of the way, plus a very welcome section where a bridleway, hidden behind a hedge, ran parallel with the road. Mrs PBT’s would have called me foolhardy, or worse, but keeping my wits about me, I arrived in Aylesford village in one piece and without too many close shaves!

As I walked past the Bush pub and caught a glimpse of the cheery and welcoming interior, I was very tempted to call in for a pint. The London Pride hand pump on the bar looked extra inviting and had it not been for the notice on the door, asking customers, not unreasonably, to remove muddy boots before entering, I would have popped inside. 

As it was, if I had removed my footwear, it’s doubtful I’d have got
them back on, so I carried on into the centre of Aylesford, before finding a most welcome bench, where I sat and ate the cheese roll that was left over from the previous day. The station was much further from the village than I remembered, but I still reached it in plenty of time for the train back to Tonbridge.

That two days of walking means there is now just a seven-mile gap between Wye and Charing before I complete the bulk of the Kentish section, and head west into Surrey along the final 50 miles of the  North Downs Way and the end of the trail in the town of Farnham.

 

Take my beer away

Pub landlords have welcomed the climb-down by the UK government which will allow them, once again, to sell alcohol during the current period of enforced closure. When plans for the second national lockdown were first announced, the guidelines initially indicated a ban on pubs serving alcohol for people to takeaway and drink at home. This was in sharp contrast to the first lockdown which came into force back in March.

Fortunately, pressure from the drinks industry forced the government to think again, so now pubs in England (Scotland & Wales have their own separate rules), will now be able to sell takeaway beer and cider, during November’s lockdown, as long as the drinks are pre-ordered by phone or online. Customers can collect their orders, as long as they do not enter the premises.

The U-turn comes as a relief to licensees and pub bosses who had warned that the ban would result in thousands of gallons of beer being poured down the drain. Takeaway sales will form a vital lifeline to local pubs and breweries over the next four weeks, providing them with much needed income. It will also prevent a substantial amount of perfectly drinkable beer from being wasted.

It is thought the now over-turned ban on takeaway alcohol sales was drafted because, during the first lockdown, some pubs were allowing customers to enter the premises, buy a pint and then go outside in order to drink it. This was clearly a case of pushing the envelope that little bit too far, earning drinkers and publicans alike, a “tut, tut” from nanny.

The message now to all drinkers and pub lovers is, please support your local pub, bar or brewery with your custom, and help them get through what, for most, is an extremely challenging and difficult period. I shall be doing my bit, by ordering essential supplies from both local pubs and breweries, and am currently investigating what's available at the moment.

It is also encouraging to read that some pub owning companies and brewers, including Punch and Marston’s, have announced rent reductions for licensees over the 28-day period.

An autumnal walk along the North Downs Way - Part One

It’s over two weeks now since my two-day jaunt along a section of the North Downs Way, and I suddenly realised that I hadn’t really chronicled the route I took, the sights I saw or people and things I encountered along the way. What I will say is, looking back, I am extremely glad I grasped the opportunity of those two glorious mid-October days to make the most of the Kent countryside and spend a night away, in the comfort and tranquillity of a traditional, old English inn.

Before booking those two days, I had a feeling that the country could be heading into some form of lockdown; although I didn’t appreciate at the time quite how restrictive this would be. Still, as a colleague of mine I fond of saying, we are where we are, and with precious little else to write about, what follows is the account of my walk.

My walk was due to start from the large village of Charing; a settlement built on the slope of the North Downs, at the junction of two major highways.  In order to reach the village, I caught an early morning train coast bound service from Tonbridge, changing trains at Ashford.

The interval between arrival and departure at Ashford International, was one minute; an impossibly short time as I discovered, given the distance between platforms. This was despite the service from Tonbridge arriving a few minutes ahead of schedule, and my best efforts to make the connection. I hurried down the steps to the subway, passing under the currently disused international Eurostar platforms.

 

I almost made it, but with the dispatcher blowing his whistle, and
shouting at me to move away from the departing train, I missed the London Victoria-bound service by less than 30 seconds. After apologising for my foolhardiness, there was no option but to wait half an hour for the next train. Fortunately, the café on the platform I’d just come from, was open, and rather irritatingly, that was where the train to Victoria would be departing from.

I was able to grab a rather good cup of coffee and take advantage of the bacon roll offer. £2.99 for a coffee, but only £3.99 with a sausage or bacon roll thrown in. The downside was the Covid restrictions which had rendered all the inside seating as out of bounds – what a miserable, little, anti-social bastard, Coronavirus is!

I managed to find a vacant seat on the draughty, rainswept platform, thinking that the weather wasn’t boding well for my walk. Fortunately, by the time my train arrived and transported me the short six-minute journey to Charing, the sky was clearing, and that was the last I would see of the wet weather for the next few days.

Charing station lies to the south of the village, whilst the NDW passes close to its northern extremity, so there was an uphill walk, through the attractive main street, in order to reach the trail. First, I had to cross the busy A20 road;  the main thoroughfare between Ashford and Maidstone, before the opening of the M20 motorway.

Despite having formerly resided in both these towns, I knew very little of Charing, apart from the nightspot it once boasted, called "King Arthur’s Court." Housed at the now permanently closed, Swan Inn, a mock-Tudor roadhouse, built in the 1920’s, King Arthur’s was the “in place” for trendy Ashford youth. But with soul and disco, not really my scene, I wasn’t exactly a regular visitor.

As mentioned, my route took me up the rather narrow, village High Street, past an abundance of attractive and historic houses and shops. One former kitchen shop now houses the Bookmaker’s Arms micro-pub; currently the only pub in a village that is home to over 2,700 inhabitants.

Quarter to nine in the morning was obviously far too early for a swift pint, so I continued my walk, up through the village to where the High Street narrows further and becomes the appropriately named “The Hill.” At the top I crossed the busy A252 Faversham Road and continued for a short distance before turning left onto the Pilgrims Way and, for me, the point where I joined the NDW.

As I wrote in an earlier post, the "Pilgrims Way" is a relatively modern name for an ancient trackway, although pilgrims on their way to Canterbury would undoubtedly have

made use of it. The track runs almost directly below the escarpment of the downs, which meant it was relatively flat. It is also tarmac for most of the route, which was an added bonus, although there was a stretch where the hard surfacing disappeared and was replaced by the wettest and muddiest conditions of the entire walk.

Amongst the contrasting sights I passed along the way, was the Memorial Cross, cut into the chalk grassland in 1922, just above the village of Lenham, to commemorate those who fell in the Great War. The cross serves as the village war memorial and is clearly visible for quite some distance. You can’t help noticing it as you pass along the A20; a road I have travelled along dozens of times. This was the first time though, that I’d seen from close quarters.

Further along, the Pilgrims Way passes the rear of the sprawling Marley Works, which were established in 1923, originally as a joinery works making doors and windows. The Marley name is well-known today, with factories in other locations of the country, whilst the works here concentrate on producing plastic drainage pipes and roof guttering. It is quite well camouflaged, by hedges and trees, and the only real sign of the hustle and bustle taking place behind this natural barrier, is the hum of machinery and the noise made by forklift trucks, trundling between the various buildings.

I eventually reached the small and attractive village of Hollingbourne, which lies on the southern slopes of the North Downs. The attraction here was the Dirty Habit pub, which provided a welcome lunchtime break and the opportunity for a well-earned pint of Harvey’s.  I wrote about the pub, in some detail here.

The final four miles of the first day’s walk were undoubtedly the hardest, as after leaving the Dirty Habit, the NDW climbs right to the top of the escarpment. The ascent was worth it in terms of views, but it was a tough going, following on from the nine miles I’d already walked. The route wasn’t that easy to follow either, with the waymarks either missing or none-existent in the first place.

You can read more about this section here, where I describe how I eventually reached the end of the first day’s stretch, and my resting place for the night, at the lovely old Black Horse Inn, at Thurnham.

 

 

It's all in the Flavourly

During the initial stages of the lock-down, when there was no alternative to drinking at home, and access even to supermarkets was a hassle (queuing up outside, single shoppers preferred, restricted range etc), it was difficult getting hold of beers that were a bit different from the norm.

I did support local pubs that were offering draught beer to takeaway in containers, but cask ale doesn’t keep well once dispensed and quite frankly, some of the beers obtained in this fashion were disappointing.  This was where a friend on our West Kent Beer Socials WhatsApp group, put me in touch with a mail order company called Flavourly.

Flavourly partner with selected craft-beer breweries by buying beers in large volumes, enabling the breweries concerned to increase their efficiency, invest in new equipment and negotiate better rates on ingredients with their suppliers. Flavourly also commission to produce “collaboration beers” that are offered as exclusives to the company’s customers.

The promotion that my friend alerted me to was a range of beers from Gun Brewery; an outfit based on a mixed organic far, at Gun Hill, in the Sussex Weald.  Since brewing commenced in 2015, Gun have acquired a reputation for their hop-forward beers, brewed using water from their own spring. I’ve always enjoyed Gun beers, for their fresh taste and even though they are un-fined, they are still satisfying and refreshing.

There were 24 cans included in the  Flavourly offer, covering six different styles, all packaged in those 330ml cans, beloved by the craft-beer movement. Delivery, via DPD, was included in the order price and as with many delivery companies, it is possible to track one’s order. I duly signed up for the Gun Brewery offer and waited for my beers to arrive.

I wasn’t disappointed, even though there were some beers I obviously preferred to others.  The Vermont Pale, the Scaramanga Extra Pale (also available in cask), plus the Milk Stout were particularly good, and helped see me through that initial phase of isolation.

As I was now on Flavourly’s mailing list, I began to receive regular offers. Unlike some mail-order beer clubs, there was no obligation to take up on these offers, although since last spring, I have received beer selections from Moor Beer (also un-fined) and Wild Beer (this offer did include some collaboration brews).

 

My most recent delivery was a selection of nine different beers from the likes of Four Pure, Bellfield, Loch Lomond, Gun and By the Horns. Again, some of these were collaboration brews, and some were more to my taste than others, although there are several that I’ve got to crack open.

It’s also worth pointing out that each delivery comes with a copy of the Flavourly in-house, magazine. A snack is sometimes included, and sometimes a glass – not that we need any more glasses according to Mrs PBT’s.

I don’t know whether I’ll be ordering any more cans from Flavourly, as collaboration brews are alright for those who want to tick beers on “Untappd,” but perhaps not for those who prefer rather more than “one-offs.” Whatever the case, if you’ll pardon the pun, Flavourly has certainly been something of an eyeopener, as to what’s available out there.

For what it's worth

My previous post attempted to expose the absurdity and inconsistency of the government’s  current Coronavirus restrictions, but with no end to the pandemic in sight, what action should be taken by people who just want to forget the whole wretched thing, and get on with their lives as best they can?

It depends, to a certain extent on both your situation and location – the latter obviously being of more importance if you live in a Tier Three area, as opposed to a Tier One. I am fortunate that the part of the country where I live, is currently in Tier One.

That of course could change, so I’m not being complacent and neither am I being smug, but apart from preventing me from flying abroad (there aren’t many place remaining unaffected by Corona, so that’s not a good plan), the only real impact on my life is the 10pm closure of pubs and restaurants.

With regard to situation, the company I work for is back up and running, and whilst a number of office staff are still working from home, we have a full complement of production, packing and QC staff back on site, beavering away to meet the most welcome bounce-back in orders.

The return to something approaching normality has been achieved by implementing a number of Covid-safe measures, designed to keep people separated from each other, whilst still being able to function as a team. I am pleased to say I was a key member of the team that carried out the necessary HSE risk assessment, that enabled us to put the correct control measures in place.

Fortunately, my job enabled me to work throughout the 3-month lockdown, and the social interaction that entailed helped enormously in keeping me sane, lifting my spirits and taking my mind off the bad stuff being reported in the media.

The “bad stuff” of course, continues unabated in the media, as the press thrive on bad news, and will seize on any story with "Corona" in the title, no matter how small the connection.  I do my utmost to avoid it – not always easy when your partner is a confirmed “telly addict” who doesn’t know where the off switch is!

Most importantly I am attempting to live as normal a life as possible. I am being sensible and am not knowingly placing myself in situations where the risk of contracting the virus could be higher than I would like. This means avoiding over-crowded places, especially indoor ones, and taking obvious steps such as practising good hygiene, with regular hand-washing and the use of anti-viral gels. I haven’t knowingly broken any of the increasingly conflicting rules, and have been wearing a mask in shops, pubs and restaurants, and when using public transport.

If I feel uncomfortable with a situation, or specific location, I remove myself from it, but in a calm and measured way so as not to cause alarm or offense.  Even before the pandemic I didn’t travel that much on buses and trains, but given the reduction in passenger numbers, I feel quite safe in doing so now. The same applies when visiting supermarkets, pubs and restaurants. The latter two will be limiting numbers permitted inside anyway, so providing you follow guidelines laid down by these establishments, you should be OK.

Most importantly, please continue supporting local businesses as much as you can; providing local restrictions permit them to continue trading. A healthy and thriving local economy is every bit as important as bringing down infection rates, and given the right approach, the two ARE mutually compatible.

Above all else follow your instincts and remember that just living can be a risky business, and life itself is all about assessing and managing risk, in a sensible, safe and logical manner. So, unless you fall into one of the high-risk groups, don’t cower away, wrapped up in cotton wool. Instead be bold, be brave and above all else get out there and start living again, as best you can.

I’m sure we’ll get through this, even though it might take longer than many of us thought at first, so make the most of these times and do what you can to see the good in your fellow human beings. They may be struggling or hurting, far more than you are, so be kind to them too. I was going to say greet them with a smile, but that’s not easy when you’re wearing a face mask!

For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield 1967

Tipping point - if not now, when?

The madness regarding Coronavirus restrictions continues, with one report claiming an additional, even stricter level of regulations (Tier Four), is being considered by so-called “health experts” as a “fire break” measure to slow the spread of the virus. If true, this will add an additional layer of more ill-conceived and often unenforceable petty restrictions, that will cause further confusion in the minds of an increasingly frustrated public. A public that is already struggling to get their heads around the current nannying rules imposed by HMG. 

An example of one individual’s frustration with the absurdity of some of the latest rules, surfaced yesterday, when a customer in a Welsh supermarket, was filmed pulling down plastic sheeting erected to prevent the sales of certain “non-essential” items. The man in question was apparently looking to purchase a coat for his child, and with winter fast approaching, how can a coat be regarded as a non-essential item?

Ask the Welsh Government if you want to know why, but a ban on the sales of “non-essential” goods forms part of a 17 day “fire break,” imposed by the devolved Welsh Assembly. These measures amount to a "mini lockdown," affecting the entire principality, conveniently ignoring the fact that infection rates vary widely across Wales. No-one disputes that rates are high in urban areas, but rural parts of the country are experiencing the complete opposite, with many communities reporting little or no positive cases.

The person whose frustration exploded in that branch of Tesco’s has been charged with criminal damage and breaching Coronavirus Restrictions. No surprises about the latter charge, imposed without doubt “pour encourager les autres,” but the man’s actions ought to serve as a warning to politicians and busy-body public health officials, that you can only push people so far.

Whatever their faults, the public at large have a sense of fair play and proportion, and when they can see the benefit of restrictions that rob them of their rights and their liberties, they will generally acquiesce. They may not like the measures (none of us enjoy being held prisoner in our own homes), but if they can see that the sacrifices, they’ve been asked to make are having some effect, they will normally cooperate, however reluctantly.

Regrettably, governments across the British Isles, have imposed legislation that is out of all proportion to the problem they are attempting to cure. You even get the impression that some of the devolved assemblies are trying to out compete not just one another, but Westminster itself, in order to demonstrate their toughness, and that they are taking matters seriously. This might score points with those shouting for independence from the mother country, but just creates even more confusion.

The so-called “Rule of Six,” springs to mind here, with children in English households being counted as making up the group of six, but the rule applying solely to adults in Scotland. This is a rare example where "Wee Jimmie Krankie’s" interpretation of the ruling is less strict than Doris’s, although there probably aren’t any others.  

The absurdity of forcing pubs, bars and restaurant to close, on the dot at 10pm, thereby depositing groups of drinkers onto the streets and public transport, all in one go, has also been called into question. Encouragingly, a group representing the hospitality trade north of the border, are bringing a legal action against the Scottish Government, for imposing these draconian restriction without providing clear evidence that pubs, bars and restaurants are responsible for the increase in Covid-19 case numbers.

I also read a report today that claims check-in data, submitted by millions of people who have visited pubs, cafés and restaurants, has barely been used by public health and contract tracing officials.  Trade body, Hospitality UK stated that a survey of 568 businesses, covering 12,500 venues and 250 million customer visits, suggested that just 104 cases had been pursued, since the hospitality sector re-opened for business at the beginning of July. The report also claims that data from Public Health England, has shown just 2.7% of new outbreaks during the past week, can be linked to the hospitality sector.

I will leave the matter there, for the time being whilst waiting to see the outcome of the legal challenge in Scotland. But whilst we undoubtedly face a serious situation, going overboard with divisive and disproportional knee-jerk responses, and further draconian legislation, is not the best way forward.  

 

These boots were made for walking!

I experienced a couple of mishaps during the course of my NDW walk the other week. The first was annoying, rather than anything else, but the second could have been far more serious, although thankfully what had occurred didn’t become evident until after I arrived home.

The first of these instances involved the strap of my Smartwatch becoming detached. It occurred after I’d stopped for a brief halt, to take on some water and get rid of excess – a comfort break as the Americans would say, and fortunately there was an adjacent barn for me to nip behind and answer the call of nature.

It was whilst heaving my rucksack back over my shoulders, that my watch snagged on the strap of my backpack. The watch went flying, leaving the two halves of the strap dangling from my wrist. Fortunately, it was relatively easy to re-attach the strap, although I didn’t discover this until I arrived home.

I wouldn’t have been able to make the repair whilst out on the trail, as I didn’t have the necessary implement with me, so I shoved the constituent parts into my pocket and carried on with the walk. The main annoyance was the frustration of not being able to track the mileage I’d walked or record the number of steps taken to reach this target.

Small things I know, but tracking one’s mileage not only provides evidence of one’s progress (I know I could have seen this from the map, but it’s not quite the same), but it also inspires one to carry on until the next stop and the eventual end of the particular section.

The second mishap concerned my walking boots, and this was potentially the far more serious incident of the two. I only noticed the problem when I attempted to clean my boots, a couple of days after arriving home.  The sole of the left boot had become loose at the heel, and around the instep, with a serious risk of it becoming detached altogether. I think the mud my boots had picked up, was helping to hold the sole on, which is why I hadn’t noticed it before.

The sole of the right boot was also starting to peel away from the upper, so all in all I was fortunate that neither came apart on the walk. My boots are over ten years old and are well-used, so this type of deterioration is to be expected, but one or two sharp minded readers might remember me experiencing a similar problem at the end of August, whilst walking with a group of friends, over to Eridge.

I mentioned this incident here, writing that a hair band provided by my friend’s wife, saved the day. I subsequently had both boots repaired, but High Street chain, Timpson’s haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory with a fix that only gave me three additional days’ walking.

I could of course, take them back, but I can only find the card receipt and to be honest, I’m loathed to risk their standard of workmanship a second time. Instead, it’s time to shop around for a replacement pair, particularly considering my current pair have lasted ten years.

They were made by outdoor clothing and footwear company "Trespass", and came complete with comfortable leather uppers, cushioning around the ankles and durable Vibram rubber soles. I’m tempted to stick with this brand, and similar combination (leather upper, Vibram lower), whilst remaining open to other options.

As with many things in life, there appears to be far too much choice available, so making a decision won’t be easy. But with winter fast approaching, and increasingly wet and muddy conditions underfoot, I will need to decide sooner, rather than later, especially if I want to complete the North Downs Way.

I would therefore be interested to hear from any keen walkers, who might be reading this piece, as to what their recommendations for a decent, durable and above all comfortable walking boots would be.