pumpkinstrokemarrow

Following the confusion of smell the other day, today we have a conjunction of tastes. So, it being Monday, decided that bread, butter and marmite was the order of the day for breakfast. So far, so good. Then washed it down with a glass of water. Which, next to the marmite, tasted faintly of mouth freshener or some kind of mild disinfectant. A comparable but milder conjunction effect to that of oranges followed by toothpaste. The only catch being that an hour or so later the water left in the glass still tasted a bit odd. So maybe it is all twaddle; it is simply one of those days when Thames Water squirt a shot of chlorine into the waterworks. One of those days when one's bath smells of swimming pool. But havn't tested that bit yet.

Yesterday, we made an attempt on Brighton. Started by forgetting that warm Sunday mornings are a good day for Chessington World of Adventure and sat in a queue at Maldon Rushett crossroads for getting on for half an hour. To keep us amused, some of the occupants of the vehicle explained the route that they would have taken had they been driving. Got clear of that lot and onto the M25 which didn't seem to clever anticlockwise either. Stuck it out to the Brighton turning where we found that everyone was going to Brighton. Luckily we were in the middle of the three lanes getting off the M25 for the M23 and were able to branch left towards Croydon instead of right for Brighton. Today, the DT has pictures of a packed Brighton so I think we made the right decision. However, at the time, not so clear. Heading north towards Croydon with nowhere to go.

Luckily, the we had the relevant Landranger to hand, and managed to locate a place of possible interest called Farthing Down. Just up the road a bit on the right. Past three large institutions, all converted into housing estates, two mental and one military. The two mental properly equipped with large heritage water towers and one of which had been examined by FIL when he was in the world of work. Then after a while, a promising bit of down does indeed come into view. But we had the devil of a job getting onto it. Two times through Coulsdon, once through Old Coulsdon, three huffs and four puffs and finally we practically have to do a U-turn to get up onto Downs Road off Marlpit Lane - and we were there. Heading up onto the downs up this unfenced road. Splendid bit of down land. Lots of iron age field systems and a spot of ancient chalk woodland. Parked up for a stroll, sufficiently level for the convenience of FIL's rollator. Lots of Croydon folk out for picnics and worse. Our own picnic was entertained by some very tame crows which disposed of our spare bread and cheese - the Waitrose Swaledale (see above) not having improved during the week. You chucked a bit of cheese - maybe a cubic centimetre - in their direction and they appeared not to have noticed. Then after a few seconds, the nearest one went straight for it, then stood there for a bit with a lump of cheese in its beak, wondering what to do with it. Too hard to squish in beak. Maybe it found it a bit sticky. Eventually puts it on the ground and picks it to more digestible peices.

One area of down, was lightly covered with scrub and was full of chattering starlings, with the odd small brown bird for variation. Close to, the starlings were black enough, but they were confusingly pale, at a distance, in the bright sunlight. Not sure what attracted them to the area. Would not have thought there was much point in eating the just set hawthorne berries. Another semi-tweet was a small pink-breasted finch, possibly a chaffinch or a young bullfinch. Neither bird being seen very often in our garden.

At this point we noticed somewhere called Toller's Farm on the eastern fringe. Now Toller is not a very common name, so we thought it proper to go and investigate. This turned out to be a bit of a performance too, in the absence of an A to Z. Landranger not really detailed enough for this sort of thing. Got there in the end, at the end of Toller's Lane. Plenty of mobile phone pix to prove that we were there, the trick now being to get them off the phone to somewhere where they can be decently seen. A job for Carphone Warehouse tomorrow. Sadly, it turns out that Toller's farm is neither a farm nor owned by a Toller, so we have not chanced upon a rich uncle. Because what was called a farm and clearly had been a farm, was now a very nice residence with a very handsome garden and a friendly owner. Worth a good deal more than our pad I dare say. Next stop Toller's Yard in Newmarket. Bit nearer the family stomping ground so we should have a bit more luck there.

To close, I record that the TLS is for sale in the Vauxhall Sainsbury's. The first time I have come across this particular mag. in a supermarket. I get mine by mail, otherwise one can sometimes get them in the W H Smith's at railway stations. Clearly Vauxhall Sainsbury's has a posher clientele than one might have thought from its immediate surroundings. Maybe they draw custom from the eastern side of the South Lambeth Road. Plus there was an allegation from the Wheatsheaf that the area contained an artiste with first name Rachel. I thought that she was the one that made her name by filling a house which was about to be demolished full of concrete, then stripping off the outside. For this she got made a Grand Dame of Artistery or something. Possibly pensionable. Mr G., on a quick glance, not conclusive.