Sunday Ramble...

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.