...or! A Walk on the Muddy Side

Having given out road maps to the drivers to ensure they would have no difficulty in finding the Winchester Water Meadows car park, or so I thought, wrong! The council had decided otherwise and dug up and signed off the approach road, redirecting the traffic all through the town. On reaching the other end, that had also been closed off. Some cars pushed ahead to the car park, others did not, so we ended up with two groups of eight and never the twain did meet.

Next problem was that we were not allowed to visit the Church in St Cross "The Oldest Almshouse in England" built by the grandson of William the Conqueror, as I had only been given verbal permission and not in writing to show the group over the Church on Sunday as it is closed to visitors.

So we set off on the ramble thinking things could only improve. Wrong again. The going became extremely muddy, especially for those in shoes, Fr Malcolm being one. The route had been dry when I had previously walked it two weeks earlier.

Although it was not a successful ramble, many of the walkers said they would like to do it again in the spring/summer when the going would be dry underfoot. I will also try to obtain written permission to enter St Cross by then.

February's Ramble was in the Southsea and Old Portsmouth area, on firm ground.

Christine Culley

Winifred Mancz with her muddy shoes

"Mud, mud glorious mud
There's nothing quite like it for cooling the blood."
So went the words of that popular song
Rendered to all by Flanders and Swan.

It may have been good for the hippopotami
But as for walking we must have been barmy
When we took to the path along by the river
Then on to the meadows which we found worse than ever.

At last we espied the Church of St Cross
Where we hoped to meet up with the party we'd lost
But in the distance all we could see
Was the Vicar plus two which made only three.

Now we decided to visit the Church
The others I fear were left in the lurch,
But here alas was the hardest cut
To our great disappointment the church was quite shut.

We made our way to the bridge o'er the river
Where the mud we hoped we had lost forever,
For lunch we stood on both of our feet
Except for the Vicar who had brought his own seat.

Refreshed again we returned to the river
Hoping the path through the woods would be better
And so it was to our delight
Far better than our former plight.

Soon we found our wanted "car park"
Which we had missed before our mudlark,
With a note displayed; what can it mean?
It told us where the others had been.

Ruby Bullock

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