millionreasons | Sunday in Surrey

Sunday: To Egham (‘n’ chips) to do a circular walk through Surrey woodlands where we pick early sloes and late blackberries, around Virginia Water with its man made waterfall and Roman ruins imported from, um, Rome, into Windsor Great Park (where the queen kindly lets the plebs run around without even charging them) which has landscaped gardens, a totem pole, an obelisk, a fragrantly pink heather garden, and then onto American soil – an acre of land given over to the Americans when JFK died (let’s hope no-one assassinates Bush or the government might give them Slough). Fortunately, we don’t have to go through immigration and they have yet to open a strip mall or a McDonalds here; there’s a tasteful monument, 50 steps to represent the 50 states and a lot of flim-flummery about how you’re entering a pilgrimage into life and death (especially if the slippery steps are wet). There’s also a Magna Carta memorial and a tree planted with soil from Jamestown, Virginia.

Back into proper ramblin’ countryside with reedy streams and rushing rabbits and brown cows, looking at us nervously as if we’re about to examine their feet and mouths. We also visit The Poshest Pub in The World where our muddy boots stand out a little amongst the Gucci (sample conversation #1: “Oh yah, it’s great to have a villa in France – if you can find the right place.” Sample conversation #2: “Darling, have you got your bangle? It’s solid silver you know; don’t leave it behind.”) and also a Proper Pub, albeit one where the locals are talking about prune and pecan bread from Waitrose. It’s overcast and damp, but after a mile or two my Stoke Newington raspy cough has gone and after 10 or so miles my legs are crampy but my heart is gladdened.