Swearing imminent.  You’ve been warned.

Oh fuck, oh fuck oh FUCKITY FUCK. Oh fuck a duck.

What have I agreed to do?  Tomorrow morning we get on a bus, then a train, then another train, all the way to Winchester.  And then we walk back.  And a fair bit more – to Eastbourne in fact, with the plan to walk the South Downs Way.  Carrying heavy bags, including a tent and sleeping bags and…have you see the weather?!  There is water.  Quite a lot of it…

We have now created a military style spread sheet of distances, water refill points, campsite facilities (hose in a shed, compost toilets etc) campsite leaving times and hopeful arrival times.  And now I am having a panic.  100 miles on foot is a looooong way.

So last night Mr R decided a pep talk was in order.  He explained that I need to remember there are two types of fun:

Type 1 is actual fun; when you are having a good time and know you are at the time.

Type 2 is the type of fun that you don’t know you are having at the time.  The type that feels like hard work and maybe a bit of a trial, but afterwards you will look back and remember that it as fun.

He told me that there will at least be Type 2 fun.  So, um….that’s ok then.

And then this morning he said he’d remembered that there is actually a third type.  Type 3 fun is when you resort to praying that you get through the next little bit as it’s very much touch and go, but again, afterwards (sometimes quite a long time afterwards) it’s fun.  Uh huh.

So I think the purpose of the pep talk was to instil in me that we will, at all times be having some sort of fun.  What it’s actually achieved is making me question my current life choices…

Mr R has also suggested that a few ‘Marching Songs’ might get us through any tricky bits.  In our final practice walk last week we decided to try these out, but the only song we could think of was ‘Little Donkey’ which we’d both sung at primary schools as part of a nativity play (I was dressed as an angel and played the xylophone – in the early 80’s; obviously not last Sunday on the way up Rookery Hill). We sung it with gusto, but I’m not sure it will get me through much Type 3 fun.

So, if over the next week you happen to be on the South Downs and pass two people carrying large rucksacks (possibly with the previous days pants, socks and t-shirt draped over them trying to dry), accompanied by a crazed cocker spaniel, possibly praying, possibly crying, possibly singing ‘Little Donkey’ though gritted teeth, please say hi, or feel free to join in, or give us another blimin’ song to sing 😁

Right…now we just have to pack for two humans and one dog…in these: