This morning my legs cried out ‘no more walking’, but after a hot bath and a good breakfast I was ready to go, happy with the knowledge that it would be a short walk, concluding with a day’s rest in Evesham!

Our walk was through small villages and farmland and no hills! It was uneventful apart from meeting one irate farmer, who told us we were trespassing! We pointed out that the footpath on the map led across his fields, but could understand his frustration when he told us that dog walkers had recently let their dogs off the lead and he had lost some lambs. We meekly retraced our steps and took an alternative route.

We arrived early (after a stop for refreshments) at our accommodation in Evesham. We had opted for a self catering apartment for two nights, and were greeted by our lovely host who had not only provided a welcome pack of edibles, but also allowed us the use of his washing machine when we enquired about a launderette! We have the use of a patio and the sun has been glorious!

A Backward Glance

Evesham was so close, I thought the walk barely counted as anything more than the equivalent of the stroll round to Waitrose which I sometimes make for some crisps and lemonade. On the ordnance survey map the path was shown as a nice green dashed line; on the ground it was shoulder high stinging nettles and thorn bushes. There were posts with yellow arrows pointing in directions you would not believe. One through a hedge! We foolishly expected a gate or stile or perhaps a gap but no, so for the third time in my life, through a hedge it was. There on the other side leading right up to our point of hedge egress was the path – unbelievable! Then another post with the ubiquitous yellow arrow pointing across a field of grass to a gate in the opposite corner. This time to make things more interesting there was a tractor there racing around like it was being driven by ‘The Stig’. We bravely did the diagonal crossing to the gate and were reassured to see the tractor make it’s exit from the field by the same gate. When we got there and opened the gate, the tractor made a rapid ‘U’ turn and bore down on us like a deformed demented missile with hiccups. Out jumped the farmer straight into the ring and in my corner swinging at me even before the bell had gone. First he tried a side swipe to my temple (shouted “you stupid idiot”), but I leant slightly back and he missed by a yard. Then he tried a straight thrust to my face (shouted “are you totally blind”), I ducked and all it met was air resistance. He then recovered himself realising this old man was quite nimble on his feet (I could think faster than he could shout). Collecting all his strength he went for the heart stopping hard punch to my chest (called down the ‘Grim Reeper’ on me – someone with whom I’m more than familiar with). I turned and he barely grazed my chest but for a fateful moment he lost his balance. In that split second of opportunity I produced my favourite move, a quick jab to his throat (I offered to buy him a pint at the pub). He recoiled in total shock, it was a punch he was not expecting. He lost concentration for a moment and his gloves dropped by maybe an inch (he said, “see you down the Crown then”). It was easy, a gentle tap on his forehead (“Nope”, I replied). He went down like a baby (he smiled). It was all over, he was on the floor and I was standing over him with the referee (The Lord of war and peace) counting to ten. Like any gallant combatant he stayed down knowing he’d met his match and that if he tried to get up I’d probably knock him straight back down again with a quick kiss on the cheek. He’d suffered enough humiliation for one day: ‘meekly retraced our steps’ my foot! I won, it was a clear clean knock out and as we closed the gate I heard him mutter “cursed are the peace makers” and I thought, John Lennon would have been proud of me today. I enjoyed our short walk.