After coffee and clearing away, the party set off. Heading North, pausing briefly at the allotments to exchange banter with Mervyn and his working party, busy planting a hedge. Over the brow of the hill, a left turn took the group into Renville, through the farm then across the A2 bridge. Turning off the road, the concrete track followed the A2 then bore right along the old railway line. This route is one possibility for a cycle path into Canterbury. The concrete track runs out, so the last part was along the edge of a field, until it met the footpath leading to the Park and Ride.
At last, the first stop. Tony's careful research had led to the Old Gate Inn being the first port of call, due to it opening at 11.00am. Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men (and Tony) often go awry. The door was locked. A ring on the bell brought forth the manager who said that due to a flood, they were not open. "No problem." said Tony "Just bring ten pints out, we'll drink them here." "Oh no," came the jobsworth reply "I can't do that." It was all too much for Paul; ill-equipped for a country walk (possibly due to poor fraternal communication) he left the party.
Ten happy crib players, standing in a line,
The pub was closed, Paul was morose.
And then there were nine.
Back along the path we had come, then over the old railway line instead of along it. Over a couple of fields,
then the A2. The footpath led down the steep embankment, across the dual carriageway (clambering over the armco central barrier) then up the steep embankment on the other side.
Then it started to rain. Those who had brought waterproof gear donned it - just in time for the rain to stop. The path then passed through Nackington with its nicely redeveloped farm and a delightful church. The path turned away from the road, across fields again. At this point, Terry felt that the weather was not going to be favourable and called Margaret to rescue him. Peter Fairweather, living up to his name, took advantage of the chance of transport away from this madness.
Nine happy crib players, eyes aloft to heaven,
"Looks like rain.", some proclaim.
And then there were seven
Then it started to rain. Then it rained harder.. and harder.. and harder. The wind got up and blew the rain straight through anything that wasn't waterproof (jeans, jackets, socks etc). After a few very miserable minutes trudging across
a field in this, the path led between the houses at Lower Hardres to come out in Bridge Road. The rain now had stopped and the sun was shining through. This didn't stop the walkers
getting wetter though, as the cars passing along the Nackington Road blasted spray across the pavement. Still, the Granville was in sight and it was open. The soggy seven staggered in and ordered
vast quantities of beer. And of course, Crib was played.
Adrian called for help - he called for replacement boots to be precise, although he warned the rest that if the weather looked poor, he would go when help arrived. Mark's boot were rubbing his heels so he too said he'd duck out, but the ever-ready Derek, having provided John with a dry pair of trousers, proffered a pair of shoes, so Mark was back in the team. The rain continued on and off for about 2½ pints. Adrian then left and taking advantage of a lull in the rain, the remaining six girded their loins and headed out also.
Seven happy crib players getting in a fix
For the lack of a mac, Adrian went back.
And then there were six
The weather was kind and the rain held off as the half doz followed the road out past the church, up the hill, then back down the far side. This road was clearly rarely used, as evidenced by the mushrooms growing out of horse droppings right in the middle of the road. Rarely used apart from the two cars that went by. At the end of the road, past the Old Chapel, painted in typical Swedish red paint, the group arrived at the Duck Inn.
Commandeering a couple of tables, crib was played and beer was drunk. The talk en route had been of hot soup, so soup was ordered. It probably didn't please the kitchen staff as they stop serving food at 2.30 and a group walk in demanding soup (and cottage pie and a baguette) at 2.25. Still, the food was good and the staff most pleasant.
Viv computed that we would have to leave the Duck by 3.30 in order to get through the woods before it got dark. So at 3.35 the gang once again set off.
Across a field and up a hill, the path then entered the woods, briefly coming out into a field before plunging back between the trees. Perversely, the further UP the hill the path went, the muddier it got. As the sun started to set, the six intrepid walkers re-enacted the Battle of the Somme... well, the sloshing around in mud part if it.
Making it through the wood without anyone slipping over, the walkers passed across a field of pheasant hatcheries before descending towards Bishopsbourne. It was now dark.
The group temporarily split in two with Tony, Viv, Peter and Derek going across country and John and Mark taking the road. Arriving at the Mermaid, just as the rain started again, the group swelled back up to seven as Adrian was waiting there. More beer, more Cribbage. Steve, the landlord, was treated to a resounding rendition of "Happy Brithday" Then Adrian left, taking John with him.
Six happy crib players feeling quite alive
Having walked so far, John left by car
And then there were five
Another game of crib, then the remainder set off at a cracking pace. Stopping only for Mark to change shoes, the group assembled at Peter's house to drink tea and eat biscuits before making the final push to the Unicorn. There, they were met by the sight of a cribbage game in progress, with Mervyn, Raj and rejoining walkers, Peter and John. The nine sat down for an excellent dinner.
Five happy crib players getting on just fine
They arrived at the pub, in time for the grub.
And then there were nine
Finally, tired (and in some cases tied and emotional), the group departed at 10pm.
Nine happy crib players no longer at the run
No desire to roam, they all went home.
And then there were none
Many thanks to Tony for organising the whole thing and for providing breakfast. Thanks also to Viv for looking after the kitty, Raj, Mervyn and Peter for driving the others home and to the staff and management of all the pubs along the way (except the Gate Inn, obviously).
And how was it 6 pubs?...
1. The Old Gate Inn, Canterbury (closed)
2. The Granville Arms, Lower Hardres
3. The Duck Inn, Pett Bottom
4. The Mermaid, Bishopsbourne
5. The Plough and Harrow, Bridge (John waited there for a lift from Mervyn)
6. The Unicorn, Bekesbourne.