Finally, we managed to get a day where the weather forecast coincided with the weather and our diary was such that we could go out.
It was a typically G&J day out, unplanned and haphazard. Well, I had planned it weeks ago but the weather forecast had turned - wrongly - for rain. So I never considered to re-plan, and played it by ear.
The criteria were simple. Within easy reach of London by train, with a hint of coast, and somewhere to walk. We decided upon Hadleigh. Amongst other factors we would never be far from civilisation, so that if exhaustion came upon me, we would not be stranded.
The first challenge was the City of London. Go there by bus, I declared, quite forgetting that the bus does not go anywhere near the station. Without a map, I decided to rely on my phone, and got taken a delightful little route from Lothbury/Moorgate to Fenchurch Street, through a few alleys and through a deserted Leadenhall Market. I was such an idiot, I had my camera in my bag but didn't think to take it out in the market.
But I did when we were at a superb angle to the Lloyds Building and Gherkin.
An easy journey to Benfleet, two return tickets for the price the petrol would have cost to go one way. A remarkable level of civilisation on a fairly crowded train. People having conversations, a man speaking quietly into his headphoned phone. And off the train at Benfleet.
Our intention was to walk to Hadleigh Castle, but in the end we didn't. Instead, we yomped through the Hadleigh Country Park, a glorious stretch of undulation twixt river and railway. At times we were almost alone; occasionally we passed dog walkers or were overtaken by cyclists. Far in the distance some children played a game of football.
We set off from Benfleet at 1.15pm and arrived at Old Leigh at 3.00 pm. What did we do in that time? Not a great deal. No exciting tales to tell. We just walked. A latte and an omelette were followed by a couple of pints of Adnams, and then we decided to go home.
I just love that boring pointlessness. We didn't go out to discover anything, to clock up bonus points in the Heritage game. It is not the most beautiful or interesting scenery even in Essex. But the exercise and the fresh air was rejuvenating, and although we moaned about the ache of muscles unfamiliar to that particular useage, we knew that it was doing us good. We passed a very elderly couple taking a greyhound for a walk. Half an hour later an identical greyhound overtook us, accompanied by a thirty-something couple, proof that a good walk in the sea air can knock years off your age.
We did consider going to a restaurant on the seafront, but at five o'clock we were told they were not open until half past six. We found that surprising, arguably bad business. People no longer eat according to a strict timetable, and I would have thought that a restaurant situated in a mini-tourist trap would benefit from some irregularly timed diners. No doubt, locals go there all year round regardless of weather, but if I had a restaurant situated in such a location, I would want to attract daytrippers on sunny spring Saturdays.
So instead we returned to London and had a quiet stroll along deserted streets from Temple Underground to Covent Garden where we had an indifferent meal in a restaurant that that risibly claimed to be London's best Italian. If it was located in a one-horse town and I lived in that dullsville I would return, but in a West end teeming with better or cheaper restaurants I'll give it a miss in future.
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