Castle Cary walk 22nd October
TO , RW and Scrumpy
Three of us plus Scrumpy planned to go for a local walk starting in Cary, but Deryck suffered an electrical malfunction at the last minute and had to stay home. Trevor suggested rats chewing the cables were to blame whereas Richard helpfully enquired if Deryck had paid his most recent electricity bills….but the explanation is likely to be more mundane. The fault lies in the pond pump or outside lighting which might be shorting. In any event, this left just two of us with Scrumpy and we decided to revisit one of our local routes starting from Trevor’s front door and down through back lanes towards Dimmer, crossing the railway line a couple of times and then back towards South Cary.
Our conversation ranged over the troubles of our fellow walkers and various medical misfortunes. Trevor also brought me uptodate with the travails of his Ukranian lodger ; the joys of working at Ansford School (now he has completed his first half-term there) ; the sadness of losing a longstanding canine companion and the frustration of not being entrusted with a new dog who is crying out to be rehomed.
We encountered horses on the rein, cyclists who should be on the rein and bubbling brooks swollen by the rain. The landscape out here is flat and green with clusters of old farm buildings and in the distance a stretch of the Mendips and then on its own the solitary pinnacle of Glastonbury Tor. We turned up the familiar challenge of Cock Lane which we have used as a measure of fitness as the brisker our ascent the better we appear to be. On this occasion we paused frequently and chewed the fat on the disastrous state of politics in the country: well the world really. Our conclusion was that the whole lot of them are collectively useless and no matter what selection process they use there will continue to be incompetence and self-seeking at the top. It was not an optimistic conversation.
We crossed the South Cary road and continued up the lane through the Newt’s ever-expanding farming empire. Gurkha Security tried to deter us but Trevor assured me they are neither Gurkhas nor particularly effective at security. Passing the old farm building once owned by the Churchouse family we covered off some of the peccadillos of local government and planning applications which Trevor now oversees in his new-found role as town councillor.
We turned up onto Lodge Hill in search of some field mushrooms but sadly the fields were bare of these autumn gifts of nature. Trevor believes the landowner has suppressed them but in any event there were none to be picked. We reached the top of the hill having passed the beautiful Newt cows including two delightful calves. At the top we paused to admire the Newt beacon, last used to celebrate the late Queen’s jubilee.
So, we passed along the breast of Lodge Hill, down through the remnant of the Castle and down the backlane into the courtyard of the George.
Breakfast was nice and promptly served, although Trevor suspects less generous than before since new ownership came for the George.
In the course of the walk we had comprehensively reviewed the political situation from Cary Town Council, via the Westminster follies to the United Nations and the Intergalactic Assembly of Sentient Beings but come to no serious conclusion other than they are all useless. Trevor will be next prime minister but one and Scrumpy is chancellor of the exchequer by the next time I write a report.
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