Jogging from Winchester to Eastbourne seemed the perfect way to enjoy one of England’s oldest trails for Martin Love. But then he ran out of steam“The Downs… too much for one pair of eyes,enough to float a whole population in happiness, whether only they would look” – Virginia Woolf, or diariesSeven minutes into our three-day sprint along the South Downs Way,we gather the first tip that our weekend jaunt may not be the jolly adventure we imagined. We’d boarded the 10.05 from Waterloo to Winchester and were fortunately toasting our getaway with frothy cappuccinos when Tom’s mobile rang. “It’s Annabel, he says, and a look of gentle panic sweeping his face. We trot out our well-worn joke about forgotten haemorrhoid ointment,but no: his wife is calling to say water is cascading through their kitchen ceiling. There is nothing Tom can achieve from the train and we cheer him up by pointing out he is pretty useless and would be no help even whether he was there. But as the events of the day slowly spiral out of control, that gushing water becomes a metaphor for three middle-aged men finding themselves way out of their depth.
Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com