Tis a special day for us. Why, I hear you ask. I’ll tell you
why, it’s because twenty four years ago to the day The Man and I met. Probably
for the first time I have to admit, because when we were mere childers we did
go to the same primary school. I don’t remember him and he doesn’t remember me,
but we both remember mutual teachers. We have packed more than a lifetimes
adventures into those years and intend to cram full the next twenty four and
the next…We intend to wear out not rust up.
After our long canal walk yesterday we decided that a gentle
afternoon’s walk would be the order of the day. So after lunch we walked down
to the station and caught the oveground a couple of stops to Forest Hill. We go
through this station every morning on our way to work. By the look of the map
there is a park here and we are always up for nice walk in the park. Just along
from the station and we came across gates leading to allotments and not being
shrinking violets we pushed through them and went walk-about between the garden
plots. Many were seriously in need of water, but gardening on a hill is never
easy. The gardeners we encounter are always very welcoming and keen to chat
about the differences between their gardens and those that we had in NZ. We climbed
to the top of the hill where these garden plots are and were surprised to see a
kiwifruit plant growing.
On our way back to the gate we stopped to talk to one
of the folks there, chap from Cypress who proudly showed us his thriving garden
and insisted we sample some that he had grown. The cucumber he shared withu s
was warm and sweet and juicy. Nothing like the bitter almost tasteless ones I
buy at the supermarket. Back at the gate
we followed the path left to the park which unfortunately for us was just a
green paddock, but it was right next to a cemetery and well I can never resist
one of those. This one is relatively
modern and we didn’t find any headstones older than about 1930’s. I did spot
one interesting one, of a young WWII airman, accidentally killed.
We followed a side path and wound up at the rear gate of the
cemetery and walked down the road to where we had seen a bus passing. We waited
at the stop which was right opposite the stop was a pub called The Brockley Jack
and we pondered about why what looked like the model of a whale shoulder blade
should be on the front of the building. According to Google the name of the pub
was originally written on a real whale bone that is now apparently displayed
inside.
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