My run from Lyneham took some steep hills and at one point I plunged knee-deep into the cesspit of a large dairy…something the cat loved me for upon my eventual return home. I passed through the hamlet of Sodom without finding a sign that it was indeed where I was; no pillars of salt, no street signs (which are probably great souvenirs). Finally, having struggled with missing and damaged trail markers which forced reliance on the OS map and a compass I found my way up the steep climb to the ridge where lies Brinkworth and the Three Crowns.
It was cold and windy out but inside it was too hot and humid…fine if you drive to these places as did the 100 or so folks crammed into the house, but after nearly 7 miles of uneven fields with shoes full of cowshite I really couldn’t take the environment and so took my Weighbridge Ant Sally out to the garden to cool off a bit. It was served a bit warm, close to 20°C, but it had a depth of flavour–chocolate, nuts, malt–that excused this sin.
Toward the end of the beer I started to get a bit chilled and went in to stink up the place a little. ”You must be lost,” one old codger said and when I looked confused he added, “because you’ve got a map out.” I smiled and told him that I know exactly where I am, I just don’t really know where I am going next. This response (or the fact that it came from a bloody foreigner) apparently caused offence and he and the three in his crowd turned away and maintained their silence while I finished up and headed out again.
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