Peterborough Ramblers take on Easton on the hill (and thereabouts) Part 1

It is one of the great traditions of Peterborough Ramblers that where possible, we should meet in the middle of the road.   This not only disrupts traffic but also ensures that we all draw attention to ourselves thus recruiting many more members who like standing in the middle of the thoroughfare.

Now of course there are members of our esteemed ensemble who might argue that such a gathering goes against the Road Traffic Act of 1921 which designated Easton on the Hill to be a sacred preserve of Rutland, but we all know that after it was re-captured by the Northants Revolt of 1245 (ie just in time for lunch) such rules no longer apply.   Thus we gather, road centre, advertising our presence, while locals cower in amazement and worry.

But what of the walking I hear you cry, and yes indeed walking there was for once all were counted in and it was found that those who were there were indeed present, we set forth, or as is our wont fifth, and made merry along the road, which as you will see had been specially painted in shades of black and brown to commemorate the day when Mr Jack Tarr met Mr Bob McAdam and the came up with the idea of shaded roads.  And how Northants has since embraced the scheme e’re since.             Yet this was not all thatnor indeed was it all that there might be, for there was plentiful grass walking too, and we spread out in the conventional way so as not to worry the local wildlife (although I think some of them spread out in a similar manner so as not to worry us.

And thus it was that within the blink of an eye we were transported back into the 14th century when mighty landowners built protective castles to keep out rambling walkers who might sally forth with their cries of “I wouldn’t mind a spot of that guv’nor,” before breaching the walls and declaring the discovery of gravity. Thus it is that subsequently many a

local was forced to live in much smaller accommodation.

Feeling naturally part of such a community, we knocked on the door and asked for cups of tea all round, but answer was there none – presumably the locals having been removed in games of hunt-the-natives.   Thus once more we ventured forth or of course, in some cases fifth

carefully noting all the signs of habitation, in case our esteemed leader were to get lost and we’d have to find our own way back.

But no, the team were secure in their knowledge and the promise of grassland and an ice cream (for those who so wished) was enough to keep us moving forth, or even fith

Thus, the variant, brave and exciting story of the Stamford walk will continue in part two if not sooner.  For indeed such promises are part of the essence of a walk, as we seek to enjoy that which is happening at the moment while looking forward to all that is to come, and indeed some that isn’t.  Or might not.   It all depends.

You will find further details of this most glorious of walks, as seen through the unique eyes of the photographic and essayist team (or “pics and prattle” as it is known in the trade) shortly.