The Great Easton Walk in words and pictures (approximately)

Text and pictures by Tony Attwood, on the grounds that no one else provided any.

For yours truly this was the first walk in about five weeks or so, owing to a spot of being under the weather.  And to my surprise, I found myself upon a walk in which there were no photographers at all, to whom I could call in an appropriately imperious manner, “Could you get me a snap of that?”

Thus it was that I was forced to a) try and lift pictures from other sites, and b) in utter desperation use some pictures I took on my phone.   And phones are not that good at distance shots, as I have now discovered.

Now the weather was what us meteorological types call “dodgy” and it stayed that way throughout the who ramble, which meant that for all my talk of F5 at 200 paces (which is quite meaningless but sounds good to the passer by) was of no use at all.

Modern technology eh? Who’d have thought it!

So here we have the Sun Inn which we were indicated was opposite the launch pad (as we walkers say) meaning that we can also say the lunch pad is opposite the launch pad and have a little giggle.   Or at least I had a little giggle.

Of course most Ramblers don’t engage in such trite gibberish, but it helps me fill up space when I have no idea what I am writing about.

In the third picture I should add that the creature on the roof was not really alive.  At least I shouted at it and it didn’t move which normally means things are not alive.

Thereafter and indeed beyond into the Leicestershire the situation transformed itself and things got a little different as we ventured through the wild borderlands, where few have ventured before and of which it has often been said.

And indeed you can see how quickly people shrink when walking out into the grim wild wilderness that is the soul of the Eastern Midlands.  Civilisation vanishes, gravity expands and the emergency services are unknown.

Thus and behold the land became more sparce and spare on the Leicester / Rutland borderlands, where few have ventured before and of which it has often been said.

And indeed you can see how quickly people shrink when walking out into the grim wild wilderness that is the soul of the Eastern Midlands.  Civilisation vanishes and the emergency services are unknown or at least unwilling to venture forth.

In fact I became frightened that I might well become lost and left behind as I carried out my photographical and websitely duties and the rest of the gang marched on, caring not for the poor servant of the committee, drifting hopelessly in the wilderness.  Would they ever remember me?  Would anyone think of me?  Would my name be wiped from the list of committee members for now and forever more?  Was that it?  Had I had it?

And yet miracle there was, for even as I looked I found the clouds cleared, the downpour (which no one else noticed) ceased and there they all were.  I was saved and ready to walk another day, you’ll be please do know.

For those who made it not I would suggest it is worth digging out your map of local walkways and trying it.  True the language is quite different from that spoken in Peterborough and thereabout, but even so….

On the other hand everyone ignored us as we marched by, no activity was see from the revolutionary Leicester Independence Army, and no one was shot.  So by and large a jolly walk, I’d say.

As this final picture shows, we can march on regardless, seeking out new life and new civilisations, deciding to boldly split infinitives that no one has splitted before.

And by and large having a jolly time.

If you have been, thank you for reading.  And if you would like to bring a camera, and/or write a description of the next walk, I’d be grateful.  If not you have only yourselves to blame.