The Fotheringhay walk part 2: into the unknown

According to folk legend, Fotheringhay is noted as the site of a castle which was razed to the ground in 1627 – that is to say, just before tea time.

I find this a somewhat unlikely tale, as there was no sign of the castle at all, which is exactly what Wikipedia says.  But to my mind, this is not proper history.  I mean I could say that my house is built on the site of a grand palace, which was “razed” to use the antiquarian lingo, last Thursday and in its place was built my house.   It’s a fine story now I come to think of it, and I could perhaps make a few pennies by charging to look at my house.

Which, now I think of it, is a pretty whizzo idea.  Of course, what I don’t have is the tents, but I am sure I could get some of those, and the fact is that when it rains, there is plenty of spare water rushing down the road.

So I am not at all sure of all these tales that odd villages proclaim for themselves, no matter what people put up on Wikipedia.

But this is not to say this was not a fine walk, although the clouds make it look a bit gloomy.

And indeed as we sallied forth (a phrase that Dictionary.com proclaims as meaning “to leave a safe place in a brave and confident manner in order to do something difficult.”

Now I think that is exactly what we do, us Ramblers, for I don’t know about you but I have to say for myself that I do feel my car is the “safe place” but once amidst the grass which, as you can see in one pic is

nearly the height of a fairly tall thing which is growing a bit, so yes, sallying forth is exactly what we ramblers of the  Peterborough variety most certainly do, and the pictures prove it.

What’s more, even the dark clouds take fright when we are on the move, backing away with gusto to allow us to march fifth (it has to be fifth as we have already sallied forth with vigour and whatnot.)

I should add that the carrying of backpacks is not essential but is considered to be de rigueur.  I don’t do it, having been brought up in Tottenham, where we don’t have footpaths, or grass, or trees, but everyone else does it.

But now here’s the fun bit.   Although the castle-type thing from some 400 years previous has gone, instead someone built a house.  And a jolly nice house it was too.   But that made me wonder where all the other houses were.  I mean why build just one house where you could build a village or a town?   I asked my fellow ramblers that, and they just gave me odd looks, which I think means they didn’t know.

But I looked and looked and found out what is going on.   They have mechanical whatnots in this part of the countryside, and they have gone rogue.  Yes I kid you not.

These beasties have no drivers within, but of their own volition, they are digging up the grasslands and turning it into dirt.

And this made me wonder: did the government know of this?   Do Ramblers head office?  Well, I have to say I jolly well took it upon myself and told them that all this greenery and river type things is going to be done pretty damn soon if we don’t do something about it, and they sent a jolly nice chap around to see me on this very subject.

And indeed he was not only jolly nice in fact he also  invited me back to his place, pictured here among the trees,  but I declined as I didn’t want to get too far behind the grounp, and I know how much everyone wants to see my pictures and hear about each walk we go on.

So no, I returned to the gathering and found us walking À toute vitesse back to the voitures, across various watery bits and more grassylands.

And it was then, to my amazement I discovered that de temps en temps and similar bits of French had started to infiltrate themselves into my report.   And that is the reason for the delay in my providing these jolly remembrances of this walk from Fotheringhay to you for your jollification.  But this, I am sure you will understand, explains the delay in my reporting.  I don’t want to confuse you.  Part 1 of this walk is here but can only be read at your own risk.