Day 7: Princes Risborough to Wigginton

We'd been lucky with the weather so far but today (well actually yesterday as I'm writing this on Wednesday (on the Paddington to Bristol train as you ask), that all changed and it rained on us all day. We both had rucksack covers, and there were mighty effective.  I don't think we took a picture between us all day, well you don't when you're wet and trudging along do you?

It was actually a terrific morning's walking despite the rain, including a stretch of Ridgeway across the Chequers Estate (which reminds me that Tony did take a pic or two.... here we are...)

 This is Chequers, click on photo for a chance to actually see it!

under the eye of Davie Cameron's security thugs, and where we saw a Muntjac Deer rocket out of a clump of trees and take off across a great expanse of pasture until it was out of sight.

Shortly after this we arrived at the summit of Combe Hill where there is a massive memorial to the Boer War.

We both had memories of visiting this site on a school trip, although we weren't in the same form so probably weren't there at the same time.  It sparked a cavalcade of memories about our happy days at Watford Grammar, and at least two teachers whom we drove to nervous breakdowns (yes 'whom'.  It WAS a Grammar School).

Lunch was in the Red Lion at Wendover, one of the very few refreshment stops actually on the Ridgeway. I sat on a leather-clad chair for about 10 minutes and when I got up water ran off it onto the floor.  THAT'S how wet I was.  Was really looking forward to a hot bowl of soup, but it turned out to be  Tomato and Basil, very nasty, definitely banning it (along with kiwi fruit) when I am in charge.

I can't remember much about the afternoon, apart from more walking, and continuous rain.

I had by this time started to have a couple of concerns about the walk.  I had sort of persuaded Tony early in the walk to have a pint of cider as a change from beer, and I think this may have tipped him over the edge into alcoholism, he's gone cider crazy.  The other issue, possibly connected, is that more and more of our conversation seems to touch on lewdness.  I won't expand on this point.

We got to the Greyhound at Wigginton a bit bedraggled, but a lovely warm welcome from the manageress, showers and change of clothes in our clean and comfortable rooms, and all was well with the world.  The post-walk drink started to turn into a promising session as they had Adnams, Timothy Taylor Landlord, and the superb local Tring Ales all on draught, slipping down a treat.  No need to ask what Tony was drinking.

The evening meal at the Greyhound was what Michael Winner would have called 'historic', one of the finest steaks I have ever had (they make a big thing about their tie-up with a prize-winning butcher in Berkhamstead, so this wasn't just steak, it was '30 day hung hand-killed Aberdeen Angus' or something) but it was real melt-in-the-mouth stuff.  Ribeye, by the way.  We also had a really good shared starter platter, featuring dressed crab, smoked salmon, mackerel, and roll mops (thanks for letting me have yours Tony)

Another Good Day.