Wednesday 8th February 2017

Day 2 of the great week off, and it seems the dull, cold and dreary weather is here for the rest of the week, with a few snow flurries on Friday night to look forward to.

Apart from being dressed earlier than I had been on Tuesday, the big plan for the day was to walk to Kingsdown and back to meet an old rambling friend to catch up. You see, my hectic international playboy lifestyle means that weekends at home slip through my fingers like greased spaghetti, and with all the best intentions since I last promised to meet up, several months have slipped by. But, I had not forgotten, and after an exchange of e mails, a venue and time was agreed, I just had to get myself down to the pub at the desired time.

Jools was up and about very early, and left me and the cats alone by seven, outside it was still dark. Daylight would take its time on such a gloomy day as this. But I put out the bird seed, make breakfast and listen to some radio, and the time flies by, until it is half ten and time to leave.

I put on my walking boots, pop my Razorbacks wooly hat one, add an extra layer of clothing, and set off, taking the less muddy route to the end of the street then turning down Station Road. I had done this to have a look at the house at the end, as by this time last year his daffodils had been in flower for six weeks. Not this year, many have buds, but some time from opening. However, just round the corner there was a cultivated primrose open, but I would find no wild ones open along the roads to Kingsdown.

Down at the bottom of the hill, the new house now has its foundation completed, so now ready for the walls to be built on the house replacing the old ruinous old cottage that used to be there.

I huff and puff my way up the hill the other side, I was doing OK, but my back was complaining already. I press on. At the corner of Kingsdown Road, the Red Lion seems to have been sold, and now waits its conversion to a house, so the village loses another pub.

Along the street to the edge of the village, most of the way being forced to walk on the road as people parked so to block the pavement. I take pictures planning to send them to the police of post online. But it is always this way.

From the edge of the village, it is mostly downhill all the way. My back settles down, and soon enough it doesn't hurt at all. Out of the village, past the new vineyard and past the scattered houses that are hidden from view along the road. Finally I come to the top of Norway Drove: i look down, it doesn't look too muddy, maybe I will go back that way after all. A quarter mile further on, the hill descending to Otty Bottom begins, normally I turn right here to the cliffs, but I thought that would be muddy, so decide to use the road instead.

The gate at the bottom has been replaced by two sturdy bollards, but I reckon a couple of lads could get a mini through the gap on one side, and be able to drive from Kingsdown to St Maggies. Maybe not.

The road levels out, and passes by more scattered large house, not many others around, so I am lost in my thoughts. Eventually, I come to the junction where the road from the golf club joins, and I have to take cover in puddles so not to be run over by some pringled Audi driving twat.

Around a bend and I can see the sea in front of me. From here it is a ten to fiteen minute walk, and I have an hour. So I can wander, or find a bench to sit on and ponder my existence.

It is cold on the bench. Even with my hat on, zip on my coat pulled up. I decide to go for a warming pint of chilled beer and wait for Rob inside. That seemed the sensible thing to do.

Rob arrives, and we both order scampi and chips, which is very good, the chips very good indeed. We chat and generally catch up on life. It has been too long for sure, and so we shall try to arrange more meets through the year, based on snapping stuff. Seems sensible.

At two, we are both done, and so is time to walk back. We shake hands and go separate ways. But right away my back is complaining, I mean really bad. It does sometimes, but this was bad. I push on, and straight away decode no to clamber up the cliff path, instead take the gentle path back to Otty Bottom and then home, the way I had come.

It was going OK until I came to the bottom of the climb, I say climb, its a gentle slope really, but I have to take regular stops as the muscles cramped up in my back. O do get to the top, and after a walk along the level, I turn to walk down the dip. And my back stops aching right away, even over the roughest of ground. But up the other side, it was really bad, but after stopping a few times, I go get to the top. This was now longer fun, I just wanted to get home and crash on the sofa.

I do make it back, arriving home after 90 minutes. Should have taken an hour. But could I take to the sofa? No, as the cats are meowing for an early dinner. To have some peace, I cave in, also make a coffee, and then I can take to the sofa. Aaaah, that's better. Of course, my legs tighten up to, and my back develops a a dull throbbing pain, but is not so bad. I ignore it, and so begin to prepare dinner. Just insalata caprese, I say just, its always great, and has the bonus of not taking long to prepare, and takes no cooking.

Jools comes home, I open beer and cider, and all is well with the world. I notice I am in good spirits now there is no work to worry about, well for a week.

There is football on in the evening, Leicester v Derby, a really local Derby. But, both teams make 18 changes between them, and is a mockery of the competition and TV viewers if I'm honest. It goes to extra time, but I am done. I tape the extra time and go to bed.