The wind was to my back or to my left as I started first south then east through Godmanchester and then into the Hemingfords. Not a quarter mile out of the Market Inn, though, I was in a field that was under a couple of inches of water and the snow had started to fall as well. Shit. I should get about half the run done, I thought, then settle in someplace cozy for a warmer…yeah, that’s it.
3 out of 8 miles in this much water, another mile in deeper stuff...shit
The snow slowed a bit and I spotted the Axe and Compass in Hemingford Abbots and felt like the coincidence of half distance and coziness was too much to pass up and dragged my soaked and shivering self in for a beer.
Although it looked a proper bar, I got the distinct feeling that food was the big draw here with well dressed patrons enjoying mounds of very appetising fare. No worries, though, as the beer was especially tasty (Bateman’s seasonal Rosey Nosey, which tasted a bit like XXXB, but that’s alright as well).
I lingered a half hour and then the cook came out and told the barmaid it looked like a white Christmas was on its way, pointing out the window to the blizzard that had since settled in. I drank up and headed back out and in five minutes the snow was 2 inches deep (but by the time I reached St Ives via some more soggy sheep fields most of it had melted again).
