The Greensand Way Part II - a Walking Perambulation

My twenty-year 'china anniversary' re-walk of the Greensand Way is now complete. I first walked the c.110-mile path from Hamstreet to Haslemere in May 2006, as the first phase of a challenge to hike to Ham Street in Somerset with my friend, Tom.

This second installment fills in the gaps between the sections explored in the 'Part I' blog.'

The mid-Kent section westward from Sutton Valence to East Peckham was achieved by catching trains to the village of Headcorn and then a bus to Sutton Valence. The first two thirds of this section feel similar to the section from Pluckley (documented last time), with the path remaining resolutely at the top of the range of hills, with excellent views across the Weald of Kent to the south. Orchards abound and the path passes the gated driveway to Linton Hall. Eventually the route tumbles off of the hills to reach Yalding, a village that used to flood severely on a regular basis. The route then follows a short navigation channel which was built to cut a corner off of the meandering River Medway for commercial vessels.

The hill range takes a while to get back into full flow after the path crosses the Medway Valley, but the next section westward includes the pretty village of Shipbourne (pronounced 'shibbun' and located a few miles north of the town of Tonbridge), with its grassy common land being a prominent feature. The moated manor house at Ightham (pronounced ‘item’) is well worth a short detour. Beyond this, the ridge reasserts itself and one is really quite high up when nearing Knole Park on the edge of Sevenoaks. You may spot a deer here and you will almost certainly pass the odd jogger! The path then falls off of the hills and becomes quite hard to follow, needing to tunnel beneath the A21 to reach the village of Sevenoaks Weald. After a pint of mild and a bag of crisps in the local pub I walked up to the Hildenborough Road and caught as bus to Tonbridge Station.

The next section west from Sevenoaks Weald takes the walker all the way to Surrey, climbing back onto the ridge again to pass the village of Ide Hill, with its conveniently located shop / cafe, and the wooded summit of Toy’s Hill, one of the highest points in Kent. The true highest point is actually Betsom’s Hill on the North Downs above Westerham, which musters over 820 feet in height.

The path then passes Chartwell, which was Winston Churchill’s home for over forty years, chosen by him mainly because the view across the Kentish Weald is so nice. Crockhamhill Common becomes Limpsfield Common as the walker passes into Surrey (it's all just 'woods' to me). Here, there is a marker-stone showing Hamstreet and Haslemere as each being 55 miles away in opposite directions. The walk beyond into Oxted is typically ‘Surrey’ with lots of common land around leafy suburban roads.

Having documented the sections between Oxted and Dorking in my last article, there is just the last 35 miles to report on. I decided to work backwards, catching trains to Haslemere to begin my walk eastwards. Haslemere is a pretty country town, where a plaque commemorates the first police officer in the Surrey Constabulary to die on duty in what is known as the 'Haslemere riot.' Clearly these were different times.

The Greensand Way climbs steeply to the Devil’s Punchbowl at Hindhead, a village that used to endure a near-permanent stream of traffic on the A3. The road tunnels beneath it today and there is not really any evidence that it used to run right through the village, with tasteful landscaping removing all vestiges of this arterial road from London to Portsmouth. After some magnificent northward views the path descends to Thursley village, from where it begins its long bumpy journey eastward to Dorking. I was crestfallen to reach the Dog and Pheasant at Brook to find 'To Let' signs. I had used the pub in 2006 on my initial walk and a beer would have gone down like a snake's foot (as people say down here on Romney Marsh). Instead I continued via Sandhills (the clue is in the name) and Wormley, and I had an evening meal in the Merry Harriers pub in Hambledon. Conversations in 'RP' English reverberated around me as I ate. A few miles beyond, I camped in the Hurtwood. The name has nothing to do with pain, as ‘hurts’ was a local dialect word for bilberries.

The next day was searing hot. Hascombe was quaint with a winding lane, a pond and a pretty church. When I reached the village of Shamley Green, where the ridge has another break to let a river through, I was seriously considering throwing in the towel. However, the next section was mercifully shady as the ridge is heavily wooded here. There are some great viewpoints, and the path descends to pass by the Duke of Edinburgh School and again to pass through the village of Holmbury St Mary. Beyond is Leith Hill, the highest point in Surrey. It is crowned with a tower and seems to be quite a tourist hotspot.

There was just the long slow descent to Dorking to go after this. Time was limited before the train that I needed to catch home, so a ‘meal deal’ in an Esso garage had to make do. There's no point lying - this last section was gruelling in the heat, with no public transport on a bank holiday Monday and no refreshment facilities between Holmbury St Mary and Wotton, by which point I needed to get a spurt on.

All in all, it’s been fascinating to re-walk this long distance path, and I’ve made a few tweaks to my book, ‘Mud, Sweat and Beers’ which documents the route and our continuation westward to the other ‘Ham Street’ in Somerset. It is perhaps inevitable that I will eventually re-walk those paths too.

The Greensand Way Part I - a Walking Perambulation

‘It was twenty years ago today…’ begin the lyrics of one of the many legendary songs of the Beatles. Twenty years must have seemed a long time to the young Paul McCartney when he wrote these lyrics which opened the 'Sgt. Pepper' album in 1967. After all, in 1947 we were barely over the Second World War and Paul was four or five depending which side of June the 18th we are!

Personally, I think the twenty years since I walked the entire Greensand Way footpath across Kent and Surrey have passed in a flash. The 110-mile trail begins in the village of Hamstreet, about nine miles from the English Channel and ends in the town of Haslemere in a far flung corner of Surrey. For my friend Tom and I, the Greensand Way formed the first half of a challenge to walk to the other 'Ham Street' in Somerset, which I documented in my travel book 'Mud, Sweat and Beers.'

For the 'china anniversary' re-walk I began with the local section, which falls under the borough of Ashford, back in the winter. The very beginning of the path is currently not signed at Hamstreet Crossroads, although I believe there are plans for a local info board to mark the start very soon. The gravel trail up through Hamstreet Woods (one of the UK's oldest national nature reserves) is a gentle and pleasant incline for cyclists, but upon reaching the brow of the hill, it's footpaths all the way to the settlements of Kingsnorth, Chilmington and Great Chart. I was pleased to see that the route of the trail around Chimington hasn’t been severely marred by the recent housing development, retaining a mostly rural feel throughout. Chilmington is essentially becoming a 'new town' bolted onto the southwestern fringe of Ashford. Beyond Great Chart, the route bridges the Ashford to Tonbridge railway line, and I had to abandon my walk due to the path being flooded all the way down to the Great Stour River near Godinton Park. I’ve never been a fan of swimming!

My second recent dabble at the Greensand Way covered the section which runs along the edge of Godinton Park, again not hugely troubled by the suburban developments, before heading west to pass to the south of Hothfield, descending towards the edge of Hothfield Common (a natural peat bog) and then up and over to Little Chart. From here on, I followed the Stour Valley Path to the village of Lenham, where ponds provide the source of one of Kent's longest rivers, which flows via Ashford and Canterbury, out into the English Channel at the little town of Sandwich, which gave its name to, er... sandwiches!

I walked my third section of the Greensand Way backwards (i.e. west to east), catching a bus from the village of Headcorn to pick up the trail at Sutton Valence, heading eastward. This was, and probably still is, my favourite section of the walk. Kent lives up to its epithet of being the ‘Garden of England’ here, with numerous orchards along the route. Whilst the section around Great Chart and Chilmington on my previous amble has the feel of a ridge, this is where the Greensand Hills, which give the path its name, really find their feet. The views southward from the top of the ridge are panoramic, and the path remains fairly high up the slope until dropping off beyond Boughton Malherbe. After Egerton (pictured), the route dips and then climbs again to Pluckley (reputedly England's most haunted village), where the orchards take over again for the descent to Little Chart. After a pint in the Swan’s beer garden, I negotiated a route to Pluckley Station, being somewhat gutted to find that Dering Arms was closed and the next train was in 55 minutes time. Time for some stoicism.

Then on the first May bank holiday, I booked myself a Travelodge in Dorking, with the aim of completing the sections of the Greensand Way west from Reigate to Dorking and east from Reigate to Oxted. Alighting the train at Reigate Station, the town is reached via a foot tunnel, which was the first road tunnel to be built in the UK, opening in 1823. This was constructed for the ease of stagecoaches, travelling from London to Brighton, so-called because these long journeys were completed in stages, with a change of horses being needed at regular intervals. The route of the Greensand Way to Dorking was far more scenic than I remembered it from 2006. The path drops dramatically into the valley of the River Mole, which runs from Gatwick to the Thames. The Greensand Ridge doesn’t reassert itself until Dorking area, leaving the North Downs on the right hand side to dominate the skyline. I passed through the pretty villages of Betchworth and Brockham and passed a small woodland that I camped in during that original thirteen-day hike. I described this as ‘cake shaped’ in my book and I can confirm that it still gives that impression! The 'cherry on top' was passing a blue plaque in Dorking marking Strawberry Studios where 10cc, Paul McCartney, Steveie Wonder and others had all recorded music.

On the following day I would catch the train to Reigate and walk the ‘GW’ eastward. It was nice to walk a section of the trail that my friend Tom and I had completely missed twenty years ago, having made a hash of the map-reading, ending up in Redhill town centre. Thankfully, modern smartphone apps make following a trail of this kind much easier today. However, signage for the trail was still non-existent on the lanes to the west of South Nutfield so I reported this to Surrey County Council. Modern smartphones make this easier too!

My lunchtime refreshment break was at a pub in Bletchingley, a village straddling the A25 at the top of the ridge. It was doing brisk business and the barmaid was clearly feeling the pressure. The next section feels similar to the Pilgrims’ Way, a more famous trail which runs along the (also more famous) North Downs. Here, the 'GW' runs along the lower part of the ridge’s scarp slope in an easy-to-follow straight line. Crossing the busy A22 near Godstone was more of a challenge, but the section via Tandridge to Oxted passed very quickly. Oxted is perhaps most famous for the being the childhood home of a certain Keir Starmer. Not far from here is the furthest known mention of Hamstreet, where the ‘GW’ crosses the Kent border, with the village signed as being 55 miles away but we'll be visiting that in 'Part II' of this report. For now, we'll trundle down to Hurst Green Station and catch the first of four trains home.

Instant Poetry - War & Climate Change

Inspired by Bruce Springsteen's Dylanesque protest song 'Streets of Minneapolis,' I thought I'd throw an an environmental slant on the latest horror show from the Middle East. The image is of an E.P. I released under the name of 'Adam Colton and Teresa Colton' (although this was a solo effort). Please seek out our music on your favourite online provider if curious...

Lots of explosions filling the air,

More refugees, but does anyone care?

Houses blown up, plumes fill the sky,

Does anyone ever stop to ask why?

Remember when Trump said to Zelensky,

‘You’re gambling [around] with World War Three?’

But his Nobel Peace Prize chances are blown,

So now he’s embarked on a war of his own.

For years we’ve been trying to stop climate change,

Meanwhile our ‘great’ leaders, they still act the same,

We turn off lights, while they fill the skies,

With non-stop explosions, this cannot be wise!

Trump hopes that Putin will be a good mate,

If he finds his country a 51^st state,

Canada, Greenland or Gaza will do,

He’s trying to look big to impress you-know-who –

No money for healthcare or helping the poor,

But billions of dollars to start a new war,

And don’t disagree with him, ‘cause he’s got ‘ICE,’

And they’ve all got guns and they’re not very nice!

When COVID hit hard, we all had to change,

But everything then got put back just the same,

Was that our last chance to cut down emissions?

Instead our world leaders took warring positions.

So don’t blame the people who’ve had their homes burned,

It seems that humanity still hasn’t learned,

But when the tides rise and the crops die away,

Trump and his mates will still be OK.

Hamstreet, Kent - Concise Information for Visitors

Location: 6 miles south of Ashford, Kent

Population: 1988 (2021 census)

Parishes: Orlestone and Warehorne 

New Book on Hamstreet OUT NOW

Introduction to Hamstreet

The village of Hamstreet used to be a mere hamlet known as ‘Ham’ with most of the population living at Orlestone, a small settlement based around the pretty parish church of St Mary one mile north of the village.

When the Romney Marshes were properly drained, Hamstreet became more desirable, being strategically located at the cross of the Ashford to New Romney road and the current Tenterden to Hythe road. The coming of the railway in 1851 boosted the village’s growth, which has continued steadily throughout the last hundred years. The Ashford to Hastings line is now one of only two diesel lines in the provincial Southeast.

Today, the village encompasses Orlestone parish and part of Warehorne parish. The village is twinned with Therouanne in France.

Countryside

The area around Hamstreet is relatively unspoiled, in spite of the busy bypass (built in 1994) and the southward growth of Ashford. There are many traditional Kentish weatherboard buildings at the village centre. The flat nature of the marsh means that the quiet winding lanes are very popular with cyclists. There are also three long-distance footpaths here: the Greensand Way, the Saxon Shore Way and the Royal Military Canal Path

The first two paths pass through Hamstreet Woods (SSSI), which is a large protected reserve of deciduous woodland where you will find many trails and may even hear a nightingale. A second area of public woodland can be found a mile north of Hamstreet at Faggs Wood / Orlestone Forest.

Link to walking guide here:

Link to cycling guide here:

Fame

Hamstreet had its moment of fame in 1991, appearing in map form on every postage stamp in the UK. This was to commemorate 200 years of the Ordnance Survey, because the Hamstreet area was the first to be mapped as part of a nationwide survey. The set of four stamps effectively illustrated the changes to the village over time.

Hamstreet was also featured in BBC TV's ‘Blue Peter’ as the 'base camp' for a humorous charity exercise involving climbing the 'Marsh Mountain.'

The writer, Joseph Conrad once lived near Hamstreet, and Noel Coward owned a residence at nearby Aldington, where several TV personalities have also lived. H E Bates would have been familiar with the village, and the wider area of Romney Marsh has many literary connections, including the Dr Syn books and the Ingoldsby Legends.

There is also a memorial at Johnson’s Corner (the southern bypass exit for the village). This marks where a heroic American pilot crash-landed in the Second World War after allowing his crew to parachute to safety.

Leisure

Hamstreet is a popular base for ramblers due to its variety of shops, station, Old Schoolhouse Indian restaurant, chip shop, Cosy Kettle cafe and pub.

The Duke’s Head was originally located on the High Street itself, but was rebuilt in the 1930s back from the road to accommodate coaches. The Pavilion (Pound Leas) is another popular venue.

An ale trail can be enjoyed by heading along Warehorne Road and onto the Saxon Shore Way across the fields, to the 16th century Woolpack Inn, which is linked to the church of St Matthew by an underground smugglers' tunnel. Although small, Warehorne used to have a second pub – the World's Wonder, one of five in Kent built to the same design.

Alternatively one can follow the canal path east from the garden centre (half a mile south of Hamstreet village centre) for 2½ miles and wander uphill along the lane at the second bridge to the White Horse, Bilsington. You will notice a monument dedicated to a local landowner, Sir Richard Cosway. Sadly Ruckinge (passed en route) surrendered its Blue Anchor pub to history in 2015.

Full village blog page here:

Thoughts on Sheffield

 

If you look at a map of the country and squint slightly, you can see four big blobs of urbanity running up the middle of England like the buttons on a jacket. These are Northampton, Leicester, Nottingham and Sheffield. Having visited the first three, my most recent trip was to the town that is the home of the world's oldest existing football club (not 'United' or 'Wednesday' but Sheffield FC, founded in 1857). However, I didn't visit the ground as it was about six miles to the south of the city centre. Sheffield is arguably the fifth largest city in England after London, Birmingham, Manchester and Leeds.

As with Nottingham and Manchester, there is a tram service in Sheffield. However, my aim was to walk to the southwestern suburb of Ecclesall, as my paternal grandfather was born there, in the days when it was a village just outside the conurbation. It was a long uphill walk of about three miles from the city centre and I popped into the parish church, where I was pointed in the direction of the vicar who managed to track down some info on Colton graves for me.  My grandfather struggled to settle back in Sheffield, working as a crane driver after World War I service, so he went off to search for 'gold' in California. He didn't find any, so he joined the Canadian army's Princess Patricia Regiment, eventually meeting my grandmother who was working as a house parlour maid in Winnipeg. Moving back to Sheffield, they soon relocated in the Kentish town of Ashford, which is how I came into the world as a 'Southern Softie' who loves black pudding and isn't averse to gravy on chips.

My next port of call was the childhood home of Jarvis Cocker, the lead singer of the nineties band, Pulp. Personally, I think that their hit 'Common People' epitomised the decade that my generation now view with rose-tinted glasses, but the band had been around for many years before remotely troubling the music charts. I took a very scenic amble eastward to the suburb of Intake, but I was unable to view the front man's front door. Or indeed any of his former residence. However, the wander back into the city centre was pleasant, with a great view before descending past an amphitheatre. I popped into a quaint looking pub which played continuous classic rock music and had a range of real ales from mild to porter. Bliss. The barman was from Lincolnshire but he said that he had found it a struggle to fit in in South Yorkshire, intending to move back home.

On the second day I followed the River Don upstream (westward). Near the industrial heritage site of Kelham Island there was a big mural of Jarvis Cocker smoking a cigarette on the side of a building (great role modelling for kids!). I then climbed steeply beside Ruskin Park and the suburb of Walkley - a typically ‘northern’ slice of urbanity (terraced streets on steep hills) and I descended a steep lightly wooded bank to reach the Rivelin Valley – a very picturesque river walk with stepping stones across at one point. Sheffield is at the eastern edge of the Peak District and some of the city actually falls within the national park. Indeed, the city is said to stand on seven hills - an epithet it shares with Rome. However, a glance at Wikipedia will reveal a whole host of other places in the UK which also make this claim.

I ambled as far as the Rivelin pub where I enjoyed two pints of excellent mild ale. Mild has almost died out in Southern England but the appeal of all the taste with none of the headache seems obvious to me. So what other delights are there to be seen in Sheffield?

The cathedral, dedicated to St Peter and St Paul, seemed an unusual shape to me and it has a crypt – I looked around this at night while a concert was taking place, using the torch on my mobile phone. The Crucible is of course home to the world snooker championships, but really unless the snooker is on there's nothing particularly striking about the building itself. However, nearby is the Winter Garden which I would describe as being like a huge conservatory containing trees of the world. There is a free museum attached but sadly I didn't have time for a thorough look round before needing to catch my train home.

There is also a 'walk of fame' near the town hall, with famous names such as the singer Joe Cocker (popular surname, huh?), the athlete Sebastian Coe, Monty Python's Michael Palin and the actor Sean Bean. Think of the Hollywood 'pavement stars' and scale it down a bit! During my visit I found scant mention of the Arctic Monkeys however – a Sheffield band that were a huge phenomenon in the noughties, arguably as the city’s Def Leppard were in the eighties. In an earlier post I've suggested a similar attraction for my home town of Ashford, which can muster Bob Holness (of 'Blockbusters' fame), John Furley (founder of the St John Ambulance), John Wallis (inventor of the infinity symbol) and the author Frederick Forsyth, as well as a claim to having had the first white lines on any road in the UK. It seems that the north / south divide is one of pride in many cases, with northerners keen to promote their towns and their heritage while southerners generally run their towns down. We give our towns nicknames such as 'Trashford' and 'Jokestone,' but is this affectionate, in the way that courting couples banter with one another? Maybe we love our towns, with all their flaws, after all. 

Who knows, but I intend to check out Leeds next, in order to tick another big conurbation off of my 'must visit' list.

Adam's Music Reviews #10 - Protest Songs & Thoughts on A.I.

 

The job of writing satirical songs and skits is becoming increasingly hard, not least because the world is so bonkers now that you can't really exaggerate it for entertainment. I decided to re-record a couple of my old songs recently with updated lyrics for the modern age and I've put them out on a digital E.P. called 'Trumped.' Check it out on Spotify, YouTube, iTunes or whatever online music conduit you use. Having recorded many albums with my mother in recording studios (as Adam Colton and Teresa Colton), this one is just a 'lo-fi' production, simply because the main emphasis is on lyrics rather than polish (and because it costs so bleeding much!). It was good enough for Woody Guthrie after all...

One of the songs, 'This Song Wasn't Written by A.I.,' although heavily influenced by Bob Dylan, is about a modern issue that worries a lot of people. Creativity is a release of tension and a form of communication for many, in the way that sports can be for others. The fact that creative fields are being handed over to computers seems a particularly mercenary decision to me. Producers and managers no longer have to pay a human to create when they can get a computer to just copy what humans have already done and reconstitute it for a new market. It is surely the most cynical thing the 'fat cats' of this world have ever done – literally turning machines into expressive humans and humans into consuming machines. And all in the name of money, of course.

That said, so far I would quote the trade descriptions act when it comes to 'A.I.' Unlike in Kubrick and Spielberg's excellent film of the same name, what we call 'A.I.' isn't a sentient entity capable of it's own thoughts but really a very advanced search engine that simply scours the Internet for information / misinformation and presents it in the way that a human would present it (coherent but flawed). Somebody demonstrated it to me by instructing it to 'write a book in the style of Adam Colton.' The 'A.I.' then scours the Internet for things I have actually written and approximates the style and content. Personally I wasn't convinced, although my mum said that it was indeed the kind of thing that I write. Well, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...

I went to watch the film 'No Direction Home' at the local cinema a while back. The film presented the early life of Bob Dylan in a slightly fictionalised way. It is certainly not a glamorised perspective of him, whereas I found the musical 'Sunny Afternoon' to present a much more affable version of Ray Davies than I encountered in Johnny Rogan's biography 'A Complicated Life.' What the lyrics of both songwriters have in common though, along with Pink Floyd's Roger Waters in particular, is a desire for fairness, which is increasingly seen as a lefty tree-hugging minority view.

I realise that my own views and lyrics are somewhat to the left of the majority of local people down here in the Garden of England (Kent), but thankfully free speech still exists. I find the shift towards money as an end rather than a means to be a worrying one, with Trump as its ultimate representative. As children back in the eighties we were taught that we would have much more leisure time in the future because computers would be doing all the mundane tasks, but now humans get to do the mundane tasks while computers create. What the technological Utopian dream didn't account for was the fact that the owners of the technology are generally unwilling to share the benefits. If half the work can be done by computers, they are not going to keep all staff on the same pay doing half the work, even though their own profits would be exactly the same. Instead, half the workforce will be laid off. And meanwhile, it's very convenient for the elite to get everybody blaming each other for the problem. Down in this southeast corner of Britain politicians have cleverly channelled everybody's anger in the direction of er... the Channel. Meanwhile, the elite and bankers can laugh all the way to the...

OK, enough puns, but I sincerely hope Britain doesn't continue down the same rabbit hole that gave the world Donald Trump. Time will tell...

So, aside from my latest release, what other angsty protest material stands out from the love songs and party anthems. Here's a few I know well...

Bob Dylan – 'The Times They Are a Changin' (1964) – After writing the anti-war anthems 'Blowin' in the Wind' and 'Masters of War,' Bob gives the world his only all-out protest album. In particular, 'With God On Our Side' expresses weariness of the litany of wars that never ends. The title track refers to the generation gap, but yesterday's idealists are sadly today's tax dodgers. Bob's songs would be mostly personal after this release, with occasional 'protest' dabblings such as the songs 'George Jackson' (1971) and 'Hurricane' (1976). His Christian album 'Slow Train Coming' has some thinly veiled anger at the state of things too.

Roger Waters – 'Is This the Life we Really Want?' (2017) – War was always a major issue for Waters, with Pink Floyd's 'The Final Cut' being the first obvious sign of this. This album touches on the 'normality' of accepting man's inhumanity to man and refers to Donald Trump as a 'nincompoop.' The title track is extremely sad and 'Smell The Roses' has a Floydian feel. Mind your language though, Rog!

The Kinks – 'Muswell Hillbillies' (1971) – Perhaps the clearest sign of songwriter, Ray Davies, dabbling in politics, as he longs for a simpler life and a Britain that was fast disappearing. 'Uncle Son' sums up conservatism, socialism and liberalism in three concise lines while his panacea for everything is to 'Have a Cup of Tea.' In truth, there was often a satirical streak even in some of band's the big hits. 'Sunny Afternoon' satirises the moans and groans of the rich, while 'Dead End Street' highlights the struggles of the poor. So little has changed but we are constantly persuaded that this is the natural order of things.

Rage Against The Machine – 'Rage Against The Machine' (1992) - An angry diatribe against society's norms delivered over some seriously heavy funk riffs with regular cathartic screaming. The anti-Ku Klux Klan anthem,'Killing in the Name,' was Christmas number one in 2009, this in itself being a protest against the annual 'X Factor' festive chart domination. Colourful lingo, but generally justified IMO.

John Lennon / Yoko Ono -'Sometime in New York City' (1972) – Whilst 'Plastic Ono Band' (1970) angstily questioned society's norms, this album is more overtly political, dealing with everything from misogyny to perceived miscarriages of justice to the Northern Ireland conflict. Be warned, you get a lot of Yoko on this album too and an extremely indulgent live disc featuring the next artist on my list...

Frank Zappa / Mothers on Invention - 'We're Only in it for the Money' (1968) – This is Zappa's most obvious drift into the protest genre, as he tackles everything from police brutality to the naivety of the hippie culture with a send-up of the 'Sgt. Pepper' album cover to boot. The earlier album, 'Freak Out!' (1966) contains a brilliant song about race riots, while 'Absolutely Free' (1967) bemoans 'plastic people' and hints at predatory behaviour by the elite. Zappa would mainly focus on comedy / experimentation after this, although regular lyrical lashing out would still occur, most natably on 'Broadway the Hard Way' (1988). Hypocritical TV preachers, look out!

Next month I reach the grand age of fifty. I've had a go at marriage and two attempts at being a 'townie' but like a boomerang, here I am back in the village where I grew up, living the single life again (lots of cycling and walking with the odd pub visit thrown in). Although I was always writing stories as a child, my first published piece was written when I was seventeen - an account of a five-day cycling trip for the local parish magazine. 

It was when I was 28 that I finally got a book into print, realising a childhood dream as a collaboration with my father who sadly now has Alzheimer's. The content hasn't changed greatly as you can tell from my regular travel posts, although I've ventured into other genres, such as psychological fiction and music reviews. I wonder if I'll still be writing my travelling tales in another 33 years time. Or will A.I. will be writing imaginary trips for me with imaginary meetings with imaginary characters? I think that's called a novel. Please check mine out on Amazon before my digital clone takes over. Toodle-pip!

Leatherhead and Dorking - a Cycling Perambulation

 

Remember the furore when plans were announced to do away with railway station ticket offices? After such an outcry locally, it amazed me that while buying the train ticket for my most recent cycling trip, I observed the majority of people walking straight past the ticket office to use the machine. When it comes to saving any amenity, it's the usual thing - use it or lose it. I used it!

Soon, I was being whisked across the Weald on Kent to Tonbridge and the Surrey town of Redhill. Upon alighting in the Dorking, the drizzle intensified to a steady downpour, so I eschewed my plan to cycle to Leatherhead and caught another train. Why Leatherhead? In truth, the hotel was cheap. Now, this may seem an unusual choice for a 'short break' destination, being a place that you usually bypass on the M25 without so much as a thought, but I can confirm that it is a pleasant little town and it was the home of Michael Caine for many years. And not a lot of people know that! The many-arched road bridge over the River Mole is perhaps the town's most striking feature. The Mole discharges into the Thames in West London. 

On the day of my visit I frequented the local branch of Wetherspoons and asked the friendly barman what the 'must see' features of Leatherhead are. He struggled to come up with any and consulted an equally bemused local. In short, it's not a tourist hotspot. I also found a pleasant 'local' down by the river.

The weather was slightly better the following day and I rode northeastward. I bridged the M25 on a footpath which led to the suburban Green Lane. Eventually I picked up a wooded byway. The fallen leaves were a particularly striking russet in this area. Climbing steadily, I eventually turned right onto another byway which was once part of Stane Street, the Roman road that ran from London to Chichester. The modern A29 is a significant part of this route and the 'South Downs bridleway' section is a lot more open than its 'North Downs' counterpart which undulates through woodlands, eventually descending to the village of Mickleham.

Here, I did a U-turn northward to ride a loop on farm roads almost back to Leatherhead and down along the sweeping curve of the A24 (the London to Worthing road), which must be one of the most picturesque sections of dual carriageway in the southeast. The above photo reminded me of the 1990s TV series 'Twin Peaks' somewhat. Alas, there was no diner serving cherry pie, but there is a cafe which is claimed to be the oldest biker cafe in England.

I was unlikely to fit in with the 'Easy Riders' on my pushbike, so instead I chained up my steed and sprinted over the seventeen stepping stones across the River Mole (learning from observing the people before me who got wet feet by taking it slowly). I then climbed the stepped path up Box Hill to the summit, with stunning views over Dorking town to Leith Hill, six miles away, which is the highest point in Surrey. Whilst Box Hill is on the chalky North Downs, Leith Hill is on the Greensand Ridge which runs parallel to the Downs. A long-distance footpath, the Greensand Way, follows the ridge all the way from Hamstreet in Kent to Haslemere in the southwest corner of Surrey. I once wrote a book about hiking this route called 'Mud, Sweat and Beers.' Kindle or a physical copy? It's up to you!

I descended from the busy viewing platform via Zig Zag Road, where a lot of cyclists were testing their mettle on the ascent, replicating the cycling event in the London 2012 Olympics. The Olympians, however, had to do nine laps, which must have been absolutely gruelling. I cut off one of the zigzags by using a steep footpath, which was slightly perilous in flat-soled shoes.

Tweaking my brakes, I returned to my bike and rode the paths beside the A24 and A25 to Brockham, a pleasant village around a central green – typically 'Surrey' in feel. I headed for the pub and a man let me put my bike in a shed, informing me that he hoped to fill this with meerkats. Well, why not? I had visited this pub in 2006 on a the aforementioned 'MS&B' walk, and I guess this is what makes the perfect exploration – something old, something new. Adventure with a splash of nostalgia!

Next up, was Reigate. The town centre had the feel of a country town which wouldn't have seemed out of place in the Kentish Weald. I rode through a road tunnel where the access to Reigate Caves can be found, and as I pounded the A25 to Redhill the drizzle began again, and in the words of the gambling adverts, 'When the fun stops, stop.' So I did, and caught my three trains home.

And that was 2024. Not the most cheerful year in terms of world news. When COVID struck, wars stopped, homeless people were brought in from the cold and people worked together to defeat a common enemy (the virus). As soon as it was over, the fighting began again and the homeless were booted back out onto the streets. It's not a good advert for our species, and goodness knows what 2025 will bring now that the Americans have decided to take a second trip to 'Trumpton.' Testosterone is back in fashion around the globe. It looks like humanity had a go at tolerance and went back to hate again en masse. Something old, something new, hey? :-(