Hmm.
Went in idle search of the poetry* on the bridge by Balcombe today. With a friend.
We idled to some tearooms near Balcombe, where we argued the meaning of the word science and the status of the tv-drama genre.
We then idled to some woodland to have a walk.
We then idled (quite quickly) away again after noting the used condoms, cigarette ends, and men sat in cars (possibly after all having chosen to eat their lunch in that particular woodland car park at that particular time but were all too embarrased to get out of their cars... Maybe.).
We then parked up in a layby and idled down a bridlepath in search of either a railway line or giant spiders. I forget which.
We then followed the signs to the aztec maize maze at Tully's Farm, but the £7 entry fee directed us away from the ritual sacrifice and up towards the farm shop instead.
The following occured:
Mmmm, milkshake.
Mmmm, gingerbread.
Mmmm, iced vanilla coffee.
Awww, fluffy bunnies and goats in the air.
Mmm, fresh corn on the cob.
Much better.
And then we found a fiver.
A good random tour into deepest darkest Sussex.
- - - - - - -
* "So near"
"So close"
So unreadable as the train flew past...
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