A short walk in the country

When our mutual friend Lesley died in January, Jenny and I vowed to keep in touch. We've known each other since we were 11 (that's 45 years, folks!) so there's a good precendent.

Jen lives in East Grinstead in Surrey these days, and it's a couple of train rides away (or a trip round the dreaded M25 motorway, Europe's biggest car park). I've never actually been there before, so I was pleasantly surprised at how old some of the High Street was. We were so busy talking I forgot to take a picture, so I borrowed this from Google.

Jen wouldn't look up for the camera.

We had lunch at a pub by a lake. These darling ducks popped over to keep us company. I have no idea what sort they are.

We had a huge meal, so it seemed like a good idea to take Jen's two rescue greyhounds, Millie and Woody, out for a walk.

About 7,000 miles later we got back to her house. Every muscle in my body from the waist down and the shoulders up aches. I had to console myself with chocolate. I expect no net benefit from the walk.