Mission

Woburn Abbey under a blanket of thick cloud

On Tuesday night I stayed in "The Woburn Hotel" forty miles north of London. Arriving there at midday, I donned my trusty walking boots and set off on a five mile route in and around The Woburn Abbey estate. 

It was somewhere I had never been before which is a factor that always increases my appetite for walking. New sights. New vistas. Everything a bit different from my usual plodding territories.

Though it did not rain, a thick quilt of cloud hung above the land and beneath that canopy the air was still and cold. I wore my woolly fingerless gloves and a Hull City beanie hat too.

As I approached the big house via Basin Pond, I came across a herd of skittish red deer. There must have been a hundred of them and I felt a little apprehensive in case they panicked and ran en masse. In fact, they did that but thankfully just before I arrived. Unlike cattle or sheep, they were so quiet - only the gentle drumming of their hooves upon the grass as they ran away to another corner of the vast country estate.

Later I entered Palmer's Shrubs - a woodland north of the village of Milton Bryan. There I came across the badgers' sett shown below. It had at least three other entrances. After taking the picture I spotted the top of an old bottle poking out of the loose soil around the sett.

It was filthy but I brought it home anyway. Tonight I washed it  and discovered that it was produced by Chivers & Sons Ltd of Histon, Cambridge over a hundred years ago. It once contained lemonade crystals. How it got buried in the sett I have no idea but it was a great find.

Tired in the evening, and having eaten very little all day, I treated myself to dinner in the hotel restaurant. My choice was a classic burger with fries and a glass of Chilean sauvignon blanc. 

Delicious.

Afterwards, I went up to my executive accommodation - The Henry Holland  Room where I watched Arsenal v Crystal Palace on television before reading for an hour. For once, I was in the huge bed long before midnight and managed to sleep for seven hours. Fortunately, Henry Holland did not disturb me.

I was back on the M1 motorway before 8am and at Ian's place in Fulham by 9.30am - ready to bring him home with too much baggage to carry on a train.

Mission with side benefits accomplished.

"The Black Horse" pub in Woburn