Took the map and mostly tried to avoid any footpaths I'd previously been on. A tundle of a run with lots of stops to enjoy the different views on a glorious spring early morning. Wood anenomies were just beginning to raise their fragile heads.
The surreal view of a Narnia-like roof above the hedges. A bandstand in a field. It could only be polo.
Lambs. I closed my eyes and listened to their calls in the warmth of the sunlight. Just great
Met up with Mike for a trot out from Lecky Hill. Off the familiar footpaths again, seeing where the map took us. Ran with my old Petzl Zoom headtorch which was about as much use as a candle in a jam jar. Mike's Cotswold Way attempt taking shape. A brisk run, about 7min miling...
Up to Lecky hill for 'Hills'. Again, keep off the main paths. Follow the trods. In the zone.
Ran out from my house down yet another new footpath and zigzagged through a housing estate. Headed up towards the Crippetts and found a small fishing lake along the way, which was a bonus.
Edward Wilson (buddy of Scott of the Antarctic) used to visit the Crippetts in his day and there are some nice watercolours of his in the local gallery. An exclusive spot to this day, the only views I could glean from the re-routed footpath were of Victorian pitched roofs.
And then to a real gem. Shurdington Hill a little visited, gorse and turf-capped point on the scarp. The views are the expansive.
I contoured around the side of the scarp following a bridleway that rapidly got diverted back onto the main drag higher up. It pisses me off just how many landowners seem to 'allow' rights of way to lapse.
Excercising my right to roam, following the map carefully and ready for an altercation, I climbed fences that took me into dilapidated territory. An old '50s van loaded with crap gradually collapsing into the brambles. A static caravan, windows broken. The contents of a home stacked in a sideless van tilted to one side. Nature and time in the ascendancy.
Over another fence where there should be a stile. A derelict farmhouse, water pissing out into the garden from the upstairs overflow into the back garden. There's a light on. Mr Todd's place - Tommy Brock inside crashed out with his boots on.
Wound my way around to Brockworth eventually.
Made my way back up the road to home with the phone tuned in to a le Carre play on the radio. About 3.5 hours. Couldn't be bothered to stay out for longer...
Some concern about my endurance levels for the PPPs...