Melting into the woods
So up bright and early this morning, and down to Preston Circus to meet Anton, dapper in his grey and black walking gear. Onto a bus and into the country. Anton had selected a PK pleasing route of mild mannered woodland walks to break me back into it gently. Lovely to be back in the beautiful English countryside near Lower Beeding and hear the wind blowing through the trees. I love that sound, and it always makes me think of walking to Icart Point.
Naturally the second we set off on the path it began to spit with rain, but this cleared instantly and it was a perfect walking morning. We stopped in a pub after an hour or so, had a bottle of sparkling water, and shared an exemplary sausage baguette Anton had made. Then more walking, Anton who has been weirdly running most days lately, springing up hills like Tumnus the Faun as I laboured after him.
At one point we passed some shifty looking men and a little boy crouching by a pond with a rife and silencer, illegally after ducks. Eventually we came to a PK nadir which was a large wide open newly-harvested wheat field. My dislike of wide open spaces made me force Anton to walk around the wooded edge rather than across the middle. He moaned a bit but is all too familiar with my neuroses.
Then we walked into a heavily-wooded valley, which cupped and amplified the excited baying of a pack of dogs. At one point we saw a deer (initially mistaken for a dog) melt into the woods. Anton became rather quiet at this point, pushed me in front as a dog decoy and grimly clutched his walking pole. When we emerged from the woods all became clear. There was a kennels business nearby.
We found ourselves by bushes groaning with ripe blackberries, some of which we plundered and put in Anton's sausage sandwich box, others I simply ate. Gorgeous.
Then a bus back to Preston Circus in Brighton, where we popped into The Joker for some hot chilli wings. I contented myself with a bowl of Woof Woof wings, while Anton had a bowl of Vincent wings, which tasted initially of mango, then progressed to a hint of magma forcing Anton to swig lager in a watery eyed kind of way. Soon joined by Betty and Lorraine, my wife fresh from the hairdressers with glamorous hair, to eat wings too.
After our wings cravings were sated, Anton left and we returned home. Lorraine working on the enormous application form, and later Betty and I sneaked off to The Preston Park Tavern and discussed collaborating on a project for next year, which will be fun. Lorraine arrived a later, and I found myself enjoying Doombar beer quite a bit.
A cheery day all round.
Below Anton strides out. A joint selfie, except Anton started grimacing when I said Selfie, and a glimpse out from the woods.
Naturally the second we set off on the path it began to spit with rain, but this cleared instantly and it was a perfect walking morning. We stopped in a pub after an hour or so, had a bottle of sparkling water, and shared an exemplary sausage baguette Anton had made. Then more walking, Anton who has been weirdly running most days lately, springing up hills like Tumnus the Faun as I laboured after him.
At one point we passed some shifty looking men and a little boy crouching by a pond with a rife and silencer, illegally after ducks. Eventually we came to a PK nadir which was a large wide open newly-harvested wheat field. My dislike of wide open spaces made me force Anton to walk around the wooded edge rather than across the middle. He moaned a bit but is all too familiar with my neuroses.
Then we walked into a heavily-wooded valley, which cupped and amplified the excited baying of a pack of dogs. At one point we saw a deer (initially mistaken for a dog) melt into the woods. Anton became rather quiet at this point, pushed me in front as a dog decoy and grimly clutched his walking pole. When we emerged from the woods all became clear. There was a kennels business nearby.
We found ourselves by bushes groaning with ripe blackberries, some of which we plundered and put in Anton's sausage sandwich box, others I simply ate. Gorgeous.
Then a bus back to Preston Circus in Brighton, where we popped into The Joker for some hot chilli wings. I contented myself with a bowl of Woof Woof wings, while Anton had a bowl of Vincent wings, which tasted initially of mango, then progressed to a hint of magma forcing Anton to swig lager in a watery eyed kind of way. Soon joined by Betty and Lorraine, my wife fresh from the hairdressers with glamorous hair, to eat wings too.
After our wings cravings were sated, Anton left and we returned home. Lorraine working on the enormous application form, and later Betty and I sneaked off to The Preston Park Tavern and discussed collaborating on a project for next year, which will be fun. Lorraine arrived a later, and I found myself enjoying Doombar beer quite a bit.
A cheery day all round.
Below Anton strides out. A joint selfie, except Anton started grimacing when I said Selfie, and a glimpse out from the woods.
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