Where’smy GOAT

Sat 7 February ‘26. DH, PCL, DL, JS, PCL Jnr & Albus For those who are slightly confused by this weeks Blog title, you’re welcome to come up with some guesses but I’m afraid your going to have to wait a bit longer yet for the explanation! Having said at the end of last weeks blog that we would be looking to return to Wiltshire a bit more often, I for one didn’t expect it to be only seven days later that we crossed the County boundary once again. However with the fields of Somerset and Dorset being pretty waterlogged after even more rain this week, my search for a suitable ‘claggy’ free walk took us eastwards to the village of Semley. Although we were only five miles away from last weeks location, we were off of the chalk downs of Salisbury Plain and into the lush green upper reaches of the Vale of Wardour, an area we have not previously walked in.

Having checked with the landladies that it was OK for us to park on the gravel area opposite the Bennets Arms, we met at 0830 and were pleased to welcome back Phil's eldest son Peter once again. I had mentioned in the pre walk instructions that as the route was around the village roads this week that it might be wise if we wore some fluorescent jackets, so a few of us, included Albus, looked a bit brighter this morning as we contemplated wearing or carrying waterproof trousers. Having donned our boots and persuaded Pete that his fathers suggestion of a coat might be sensible, we set off for a counter clockwise loop of the area. It’s hard to determine where the centre of Semley actually is, we’d passed the village hall some 400 metres back down the road on our way in, the pub was pretty isolated and the church also stood on its own on the far side of the village crossroads.

We headed north past a dairy farm having its milked picked up and straight out into the countryside. The road really only leads to the small village of Wardour so there wasn’t too much traffic on it. Along the edges of the road were many clumps of snowdrops but the damp and dull weather was keeping their petals from opening up fully to show off their bright white. We crossed the single track railway and whenever there was a gap in the hedge, we could just make out a large classical country house sat below the tree line on the far hillside. Pythouse, which is currently on the market for an attractive £14.5 million is well described in a Francis York blog article here.

All around in the fields, although farmed and in general agricultural use, the fields were interspersed with large and old specimen trees, mainly good oaks, which have no doubt stood for a good length of time. As we approached a bridge the road was lined with large pinE trees, although still not the type to produce anymore fir cones for Ralph. Whilst Albus posed for his photo amongst the snowdrops, we stood on top of the bridge to watch the River Sem flowing fast underneath us as it headed towards Tisbury to join the River Nadder and then on down to Wilton to join with the River Wylye in the grounds of Wilton House.

At the T-junction ahead we paused by the gate lodge, the formal entrance point to the 95 acre estate and we admired the long straight drive which led from the large gates and the impressive lion statues that adorned the top of each gate post.

We turned left at this point onto a narrow road which led around the south west portion of the large estate. It was somewhat of a surprise for most to see such a large area of parkland behind the fence, all that was missing was a good heard of deer! There were however a flock of sheep in one of the more distant fields which was well worthy of a photograph. Both Deryck and myself were happy snapping away and as we carried on down to another small bridge we again got the phones out to record the scene. As we pushed on, in an effort to catch up the other three who had continued walking, a heavy squeal came through and we paused for a few seconds to contemplate putting on our waterproof trousers. It was at this point as Deryck fastened up his coat, that he went to put back on his leather gloves, only to be able to find just the one. I took hold of Albus whilst he rummaged through all of his pockets, including taking his waterproof trousers out from his pocket, but being unsuccessful he then wandered back down to the bridge to see if they had been dropped there. Unfortunately they were nowhere to be seen so a very dejected Dereyk, fearing he had lost his favourite old gloves, sling his trousers onto his man bag and we stepped out to catch up with the others.

I seldom notify everyone of the route for the day in detail and so at the next crossroads the lead three had chosen to stop and wait for us to catch up and of course receive further instructions on which way to go. The few houses formed the hamlet of Kinghay and as we turned left onto Tokes Lane we crossed another steam, where a fallen tree had formed a small cascade. On the other side of the bridge, the stream ran through the bottom of a garden and under a very decorative wooden foot bridge. It must be a wonderful spot to sit in the summer, but certainly not so great at this time of year!

We headed south along the lane and at a suitably wide part decided we would continues JBs wise learnings of the last few weeks and so in his absence we replicated the exercise from the previous week, well long enough for Pete to take a photo of us balancing on one leg.

It actually looks more like us being on a the deck of a cross channel ferry with a bit of synchronised leaning. I’m not sure what Pete made of us, or what he’ll tell the rest of his siblings! We dropped down over another swollen stream and then climbed a gentle slope and on to a flatter area where the roadside ditches were filled with water. An elderly lady in her orange fluor jogging kit went past us like we were standing still and soon disappeared into the distance. It was a nice steady walk with only a couple of passing cars and it wasn’t long before we could hear the traffic on the A350 to our right side.

At the main road, we paused to allow a couple of horse riders past and then turned left to head back towards the cars, along an open sided road which looked more in fitting with the New Forest than the Wiltshire countryside. We passed under the railway bridge and although there’s a good chance we had missed all the trains today there was also a discussion as to there being the possibility of a bus replacement service operating if the heavy rains have closed the lines. (Post note - I drove to Salisbury later in the afternoon and passed a couple of rail replacement coaches on the A303). It wasn’t long before we were back at the Bennet Arms, so named as Pythouse was occupied by the Benett family until the mid-1950s, when death duties forced its sale.

We had completed almost four miles in one hour fourty minutes but our day wasn’t complete yet. As father and son headed up to the cafe in Shaftesbury,, JS very kindly offered to drive back around the route to look for the missing glove. Thankfully Deryck found it on the grass verge where he had taken the photo, so very relieved we continued onto Tokes Lane. As we dropped down the dip again, JS spotted something lying in the road ahead and commented that they looked very much like Deryck s waterproof trousers. So hopping out of the car to pick them up he returned to present to Deryck the trousers he didn’t even know he was missing. There was much laughter as we continued and as we reached the end the lane we spotted something orange in the road. Surely it wasn’t Derycks fluro jacket completing the full set? I hopped out this time and realised is the was cap from the female runner, so I hung it in a tree in case she also went back to find it.

On the drive up to Skevy’s we just couldn’t resist coming up with suitable blog titles, ‘The wrong trousers’, ‘The day Deryck dropped his pants’, or even a collective noun for lost items. After much thought and having struggled to find a suitable term, I went for a good northern saying uttered by many a searching child or man of ‘Where’s my’ and I have put together a little ditty to mark the occasion.

The Where'smy never recollects

the whereabouts of his effects

He's always saying Where'smy hat

and where'smy ball and where'smy bat?

Mislaying stuff is Derycks party trick

his glove, his trousers and of course his stick

Whatever next? Maybe his hat or his coat?

For when it comes to loosing items, He is the GOAT!

When we arrived at Skevy’s we placed our orders and then sat at the table to relate the story. In some respects there was very little surprise as the story unfolded as Deryck has developed a bit of a reputation for loosing or leaving things behind, but it still gave us all a good laugh. Medium breakfasts arrived for most but JS on his first visit to this wonderful establishment did as we all did and went large! Sausages were generally as expected but the rest of the spread was very good. Deryck hoping to appeal to my kind nature shared his black pudding but I’m sorry to disappoint as bribery gets you nowhere! Now all we need to know is has there been a confession at home or is it all going to be revealed in the blog?