27 April 2023: The Benefield Walk in pictures and words

Photographs by Simon Bradford; commentary by Sir Hardly Anyone.

It is of course well recognised that countryside walks can take in all sorts of unusual and unexpected landscapes and so it was that on our walk of 27 April 2023 we found at our starting point a new Elon Musk rocket, ready to zoom off to the moon or other destinations.

It was of course partially hidden behind trees, but the height of its pointy bit on top (as we engineers call it) revealed its existence.

We sought out information upon the date on which it might be launched but no one seemed to know.  These IT boffins are annoyingly secretive about their projects and no mistake, and undoubtedly pay the locals handsomely not to let on.

Thus onward we patrolled for that indeed was the purpose of our afternoon out and not soon thereafter a breakaway group started to march on ahead.  Of course, we were having none of that and the order was barked out, “Restrain the advance party” and we obeyed.

A special detour was then made, and I suspect it was for my benefit as one who remembers the olden days, to visit the headquarters of the BBC, an ancient and once revered organisation now long since dismantled by the government that seeks to ensure that all the news is real news without any of this stuff made up by journalists and so called “reporters”.

But the old building still stands majestic and is a place of pilgrimage for many who revere the days when one could “have an opinion”.

But of course such visions are dangerous and we passed many of the watch towers recently built to ensure that none of our walking led to anyone having “views” on anything at all.  We dutifully obeyed and cleared our minds of all thoughts.

Keeping in touch with the current ruling that no more than four people might together by any of the “Towers of Dutiful Thought” we marched on through greenery and muddery, muddery and greenery, the traditional English countryside mixture.

Fortunately, on occasion we had the help of a local representative (recognisable by his historic garb of the cut-off trouser leg, the origin of which is now long forgotten) who kindly pointed out what water is, and where it can be found and indeed the dangers of stepping into it.

Apparently, there are stories that say that water (and the mud that coexists with it) falls from the skies, but personally I think that is a bit of old codswallopping do-dah, and I take no note of such ludicrous tales.  I mean if water fell from the sky who put it up there, answer me that!

But I must say I do approve of the keeping up of these old tales, and everyone gathered around with several members of our crew themselves pointing and pushing and indeed admiring the grassy knoll of which so much has been said by so many to no one in particular. 

And so it was as darkness fell we saw in the distance the fusée d’Elon Musk once more and we knew of course that our journey was almost at a close.   

We did indeed think the rocket might have taken off by now but no it was still there awaiting formal instructions to “blast off” as we engineers say, and take to the skies.

But then we came across something unexpected – or perhaps I should say someone unexpected.

For thereupon we found that an actual engineer of the Muskian rocketry project was himself  taking measurements and doing all sorts of technical things.  This was clearly a gent of great knowledge and renown, so we respectfully passed by snapping but the one “shot” of the venerable fellow as he made sure the day did not get longer.