There is a possibility I might have magical powers…

Posted on September 12, 2025 by thepogblog

To set the scene, It’s day 3 of our South Downs Way (SDW) walk and we’re due to walk 28km.  Day 2 we’d walked 23km and by the 20km mark my shoulders and hips hurt so much from my rucksack I was almost in tears.  I couldn’t even tip my head back to drink from the water bottle (At this point I learned to ‘hinge from the hips’ instead).  I’d spent the last 2 km of the walk working out how to get home on my own and leave Mr R and Percy to do the hike without me.

So I was struggling a bit, but decided to start Day 3 with my big girl pants on and get on with it.  Obviously, it started raining heavily, it was the most hilly walk of the week and was the day I congratulated Mr R for instinctively knowing where to go, only to realise we’d taken a wrong turn…

Anyway, we decided to take a different approach to Day 2 and walk as far as we could before we stopped to eat.  This was in part because it was raining so hard that making and eating porridge was going to be hard, and part because we realised that we are far faster and focussed first thing, possibly because that’s when we’re both used to doing most of our usual running.

We were a few hours in, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  We had made the fantastic discovery that the only thing better than the perfectly ripe blackberries hiding in the hedgerows was perfectly ripe blackberries hiding in the hedgerows that have been kissed by the rain (seriously, if you see any in a rain storm or even a short shower, have try – they are delicious!).  We’d had a fair few though, and I’d started to day dream about other food.

And in the middle of nowhere, a couple of houses at the ends of long drives appeared in the distance .  And at the end of one of the long drives, I could make out a wooden table.  I decided to incorporate it into my day dream and said to Mr R:

‘See that table in the distance?  I’m daydreaming up the perfect vegetarian breakfast on it.  I’m thinking brioche bun with grilled halloumi, a little chilli jam and lambs lettuce.  What would you have?’

Mr R went for shakshouka, which I always find tricky to make and get the eggs just right, so I’m not terribly keen, but presumably I’d not cooked his daydream.

We giggled about the fact the only actual options we had was porridge, or our dehydrated pouches of lunch food as there were no stops near by the entire day.

But as we got closer, something weird happened.  On the far left of the table something came into view.  A plate covered with a glass dome.  As we reached it we could that see under the glass dome was one perfect, enormous flapjack.

Under the table was a plastic box which I opened .  Inside, there was a plate of flapjacks and a small sign saying they were £1 each, and to leave the money in the box.  We bought three.  And it turned out that the very best vegetarian breakfast either of us needed was a perfectly cooked, enormous flapjack that tasted better than any flapjack either of us had ever eaten.

And I think I might have magiced them 😉

Posted in camping, hiking, hiking with a dog, holiday, muddled life, Pog Life, walking | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What the hell was that?! A week walking the South Downs Way

Posted on September 11, 2025 by thepogblog

My plan to post daily on our South Downs Way walk failed because…well, All The Things 🤦🏼‍♀️

First: By almost the end of Day Two I didn’t see how I was going to get to the end of Day Two, let alone any other days.

Second: We were staying in campsites with limited – if any –  access to electricity and we needed to charge phones, watches and Percy’s tracker.  We had bought solar power thingys to create out own power, but you need sun for that…

Third: It was far, far harder than I’d anticipated walking 20km+ a day with a 12kg rucksack.  By the time we pitched our tent each night and eaten our rehydrated dinner, I mostly wanted to sleep.

But….we (mostly) made it.

The second night we washed our t-shirts, pants and socks (wash one, wear one to keep the weight down) only to discover there was no chance of drying them before bed.

So we rigged the washing line up inside the two man and a dog tent and…both woke up with wet t-shirts on our faces.  It was a little like being suffocated by dead fish.

‘Luckily’ Mr R recalled that when in the forces his Dad had put damp washing in his sleeping bag to dry it.  So for the next few nights I slept with the dead fishes…

On the third night we had the unusual experience of sleeping at a site on top of the downs (most sites are in the valleys where villages are, so you climb down in the evening, up in the morning and stay on the top of the downs (with a few mountainous hills on the way) during the day.

This night was great though – no additional steep bits and a stunning view.  It did only have one portaloo which was pretty much full and the ‘shower’ was a hose in a roofless horse box, but I had a wet wipe wash and we agreed we’d just get up and out early the next morning and that would be fine.  And it would have been, had the storm not hit.  Could I remind you wee were on the top of a hill?  We spent pretty much the whole night with the tent being bashed so hard that the poles bent, wondering if the canvas was going to stand up to the winds.

We made it through, but we’d had pretty much no sleep and it was a 30km day.  And by this time there was a weather warning in place.

The wind was still howling and the rain was bucketing it down.  This was a bit of a lull while we had our morning coffee:

We agreed that the only option for our sanity and Percy’s welfare was to miss this day completely,  So we got the bus to our next stop.  The rain was still torrential when we arrived and we couldn’t pitch the soaking tent in it, so we stopped in the shed / summer house that housed the campsite vending machine and Percy and I slept…

We started again the next day in the rain but the weather improved gradually –  so much that by the last day we were actually hot.

So we did it, but not entirely.  We stopped at the South Downs shop on our bus ride day and saw some  South Downs 100 mile walk badges.  I said we couldn’t buy them because we wouldn’t really have done it, but a very lovely South Downs Ranger called Ethan overheard and asked what had happened.  He told us his patch was the leg we were missing and he’d walked it hundreds of times in his job and we could absolutely take a couple of his walks to complete ours 🙂 .  So I bought the badges but have not attached them to anything yet.

We will be going back to do that leg so we can wear our badges with pride.  But we will NOT be camping at that campsite this time. 😬

There are quite a few stories from the week you might like. I’ll be posting them soon – I just wanted to respond to a few ‘proof of life’ requests I’ve had after going quiet on here after Day 1 🤓

 

PS:  There is NOTHING better than the night sky in the middle of the South Downs.  So Many Stars.

PPS: It was mostly Type 1 and 2 Fun.  A bit of Type 3.  And I might have discovered a teeny bit of Type 4…

Posted in camping, hiking, hiking with a dog, holiday, muddled life, Pog Life, Pog Pictures, walking | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

SDW Day 1

Posted on August 31, 2025 by thepogblog

14km to first stop done.
Showers, sun and rainbows.
And type 1 fun 😁

Posted in dogs, hiking with a dog, muddled life, walking | Tagged | Leave a comment

What type of fun is this?

Posted on August 30, 2025 by thepogblog

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:

Posted in camping, hiking, hiking with a dog, holiday, Pog Life, walking | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Pog’s Chaotic Kitchen Care

Posted on August 27, 2025 by thepogblog

So, while Mum is now nicely settled in her new digs, has passed her probation (!) and pretty much expects to be received as royalty by all people at all times, we can focus on Dad a little bit more.

Dad has always been a skinny malinky but he’s been taking things to extremes.  To be fair, it’s not his fault.  He has very little appetite and when you are fighting to breathe a lot of the time it takes up many calories, and eating can be tricky  – sometimes impossible. And even just cooking some potatoes to go with a pasty is too much to manage some days.

So we’re on a bit of a losing battle…or we were.  Until Pog’s Chaotic Kitchen Care (my especially created enterprise 😁) stepped up and started creating seriously high calorie snacks  and dinners from scratch (so I could fit in all the calories) in tiny portions that were’t too overwhelming.

This is what week one looked like:

(This is obviously after I had cleared up the complete chaos I’d created.  I am still that girl who only ate toast an yoghurt for many, many single years due to lack of cooking skills at heart 🤦🏼‍♀️)

Obviously because nothing tends to go to plan, Dad got an infection in his mouth and when he finally could eat, it was only ice cream that he could face.

But since he got better he’s been having one of the Pog’s CKC meals a night, and sometimes the really tiny pots not in the picture for lunch, and do you know what?

In the last two weeks Dad has put ON a whole pound!

After losing pounds for the last few months I count that as a win.  And we will keep on keeping on.  And who knows?  Maybe Pog’s Chaotic Kitchen Care will become a thing….(for people not adverse to the odd Percy hair in their home made lasagne, obviously 😁)

Posted in Cooking, COPD, food, muddled life, muddled life guide | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Hiking with a twist: Because why not add another challenge?

Posted on August 22, 2025 by thepogblog

I thought that walking was what English people do and hiking is what Americans do.  But it turns out that’s not quite right.

According to Ordnance Survey (and they should know, right?):

…. A simple distinction between hiking and walking would be whether or not you need to take supplies with you because it’s longer than an hour and involves more effort. For a hike you will definitely need to carry a few essential items in a back pack.

Generally, Google seemed to be of the opinion that ‘hikes tend to be longer than walks and require proper equipment and footwear, as terrain and trails are more rugged. Hiking tends to see you move from lower to higher as you progress and are generally more undulating than a walk.’

So yes, hiking is what we have been doing.  Almost entirely by accident.

But here is where it all takes a turn.  At some point – presumably on one of the lovelier hikes where the sun was out but it was not too hot, and Percy wasn’t behaving like a crazed dog who had never been on a lead and the going was easy.  Or perhaps when we’d stopped for our now habitual cheese and pickle roll and can of cider, admiring the countryside from a perfect perch on the side of a hill…we wondered if walking the South Downs Way (100 miles) in one go be possible…

And the idea grew into a bit of a plan. The original plan was to stay in B&Bs en route, but we discovered that it’s not possible to do that with a slightly crazed cocker spaniel leading the way.  I can only assume that I must have had a few glasses of wine at the point I agreed to camp instead.  I hate camping.  I’ve written before about how I’d rather snack on my own eyeballs than do it again.

So, in a few weeks we are hiking the South Downs Way over 8 days, carrying everything we and Percy need on our backs.  Of course we are.  We have done a weekend tester.  The first night, just as we were walking to the tent to go to bed Percy jumped in a slurry pit…  I’m not sure whether to take that as a sign of things to come or assume that it can’t get much worse than that.  It wont be long before we find out though…

And while I was finding the definitions about walking vs hiking I fell down a rabbit hole and discovered this:

Trek: A trek is used to define a walk or hike which tends to be multi-day, remote, little in the form of accommodation (generally camp-based) with trails that are either partially visible or not visible at all and where altitude or other rugged terrain and crossings may be encountered. Treks require the most specialised equipment and will probably see you without a shower for days.

So it turns out that actually we are going on a *trek*. But we WILL be having showers (please see this previous post for smell and bloodhound nose references).  Although we’ve been contacted by one campsite we’ve booked to say that their shower is broken but they do still have the cubicle, containing a working hose…

What the bloody hell am I letting myself in for?! 🤦🏼‍♀️

Have you ever done a holiday that on paper sounded like an endurance expedition but turned out amazing?  Can it be done?! 🙂

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Introducing: Grandpaw Floof

Posted on August 20, 2025 by thepogblog

Last night I posted this photo of Mum and Dad, taken yesterday when I took Dad to visit Mum:

I commented that Dad had declined a kitchen scissor haircut before we left, which was slightly disappointing as I’d bought new kitchen scissors for the occasion and everything…

One friend commented that Dad has the same tuft of hair as Percy and…Lordy! How had I not noticed?!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can see the shared genetics right there.

Percy’s floof is often a topic of conversation on his instagram account, so we have decided that as Dads floof actually came first (by over 70 years), that must make Dad: Grandpaw Floof 😁

(Sorry Dad!)

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The Step Mum Handbook Nobody Wrote – navigating teenage boys; chapter 295

Posted on August 18, 2025 by thepogblog

I may have created a monster.  This is how:

Stepson 2 applied for summer and weekend jobs after finishing his GCSEs.

If you are of a similar midlife age to me and don’t have teenagers in your life, let me tell you:  Getting a part time job as a kid these days is not the same as it was in ours.  If you get to the stage after your application form, but before an interview (yes, it’s practically as complicated as getting on a corporate graduate scheme 30 years ago), you have to answer an online ‘what would you do in this scenario?’ set of questions, which it seems has a very, very high pass rate.  And that is to work the shop floor at Co-Op…

So with all that, plus the competition from his peers and the returning university students, combined with the fact that he is 16 and these days there are all sorts of restrictions on the hours a 16 year old can work, it is perhaps unsurprising that Stepson 2 did not secure a job.

Unfortunately, this did give him time to secure a new girlfriend, and summer holiday dates require money, so he asked if there were any opportunities for paid work here….and spent last week painting our fence.

Now, I am a bit of a clean freak.  I do not like smelling and I do not like being around others who smell.  And I have the nose of a blood hound.  In the seven months Stepson 2 lived with us, I seem to have made him my protege, insisting that anything touching pits, bits or feet MUST be put in the wash basket at the end of the day, as must anything containing sweat.  As all three of us do some sort of exercise every day that meant I had three gym kits and three sets of clothes across wash baskets – a full load each day.  Stepson 2  got used to a fast turnaround time from wash basket to folded on his bed.

Last Monday he finished painting at 3.30pm.  I asked where he’d put his painting clothes.

‘In the wash basket’ he replied.  I asked when he was coming back to paint next.

‘8.30am tomorrow morning’, he said.

He seemed genuinely surprised that I wasn’t actually planning on washing his one t shirt and one pair or trousers before then…

And I can only assume that its the worry of making his t-shirt sweaty that resulted in this:

I went down the garden, where he’d moved the paint and brushes half an hour ago to start on the next area, to find him having a rest.  Which would be totally reasonable, had he not just finished a 30 minutes break to eat lunch followed by a 45 minute ‘proper break’….

It’s just so he didn’t get too sweaty though, right? 😉

And part of me applauds that.  And I (repeatedly) applauded the work he has done, and I  provided food, snacks and drinks and I washed his t-shirt and trousers twice in the 5 days he worked.

And I’m stunned to say that once we had reminded him of the terms (flat rate fees and payment on completion), he pulled it out the bag and did a great job.  And he had a shower straight after finishing each day, before he went to the gym 🤷‍♀️.  And I think that’s pretty good going…

So I might have created a monster, but at least he’s not a stinky monster. 😁

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Running Away from All The Things (very slowly)

Posted on August 14, 2025 by thepogblog

I’m not sure what I do can be classed as running away when it’s practically slow motion.  It’s more a case of escaping from All The Things for a short time…

So many people sent such lovely messages after my last post.  Thank you all for such loveliness.

Mum is still living like a queen.  Dad had a little hiccup, but the bonus there is that we now know the District Nurse phone line we’ve been given access to is fast and effective and full of lovely people.  We also know that 111 is not fast but it is eventually effective and full of lovely people (as long as someone is available to check on the patient in person, someone is available to make and take a series of phone calls over a seven hour period, and someone is available to drive all over Kent on a Sunday morning to track down the prescribed magic.  Thank goodness there are three of us).

Some people who messaged suggested that I make an effort to look after my stress levels, and – as well as a few other things to do just that –  I do make sure I still run, (plod) badly, with Percy four times a week.  First thing on those days we run (very slowly) through the nature reserve at the top of our road to the woods where Percy snoofs and I….well, to be honest, I usually forget that I am supposed to be running and instead have a lovely little walk, listening to my current audio book. (Brain Damage by Freida McFadden at the moment, recommended by Sister 1.  Lovin’ it)

I know it’s the movement, the sunlight and the space that is good for mental health and stress levels, but I think it’s also the people and dogs that make this time so lovely.

People like:

  • the man who runs in glasses and over-breathes as his two black labs pant along side him
  • the slightly odd dog walker with six spaniels
  • the old couple with one grumpy dog that has to be shielded from the sight of me as I pass (totally understandable) and three tiny yappers, intent on (and successful in) scaring Percy
  • the couple who are always in coats, even in the hottest weather
  • the couple who eat humbugs as they walk their tall, bouncy dogs that bounce along side us for a couple of miles before lolloping off back to their humbug sucking humans
  • the lady with two walking sticks who insists her dogs lay down before we pass
  • and lots more…

Some days we bump into a few special people who have become our friends.  The sort of people who started off as ‘nice weather, isn’t it?’ people, to the strangest of friends.  Strange in that they know more of my life than most, but outside of dog walking, I never see them.  I’ve never met their partners or even know where they live.  Sometimes I wonder if they are fairies or figments of the forest that live only in my imagination…but I assume other people have the same connections – friendships with otherwise perfect strangers. (Tell me you do?!)

And I think it is all these people that allow us to escape All The Things.  Because when I am outside, before the actual day has really started, protected from it all by canopies and trunks of trees, it’s like a different world where work and step parenting and family and responsibilities are on the outside and I am on the inside.  And that is one of the ways that I escape from All the Things.  By running badly. (Very slowly) 🙂

We all have different Things, but it’s good to know our escapes in whatever form they come in.  What’s your method of escape?

 

Posted in dogs, exercise, family, fitness, muddled life, running | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

New Digs

Posted on August 11, 2025 by thepogblog

It’s been just over a month since I last wrote here, but it feels more like a year.  How else can so much have happened?

the big thing though, is this:  Mum has new digs.  She now lives in a care home.

I’ve been a bit nervous about writing this post as generally I feel like there is judgement over the topic…lots of people make it very clear that they do everything they can to keep their relative at home (we did, until we couldn’t), and there are very occasional comments (ironically, mostly from ‘supporting’ charities)  like ‘try not to feel like you have failed her’ which I am sure are meant kindly, but seem to imply failure (I absolutely don’t – quite the opposite.)

So let me be clear.  Most of me is not sad that Mum has moved into a home.  It is an amazing home.  If I could move in there I would too.  So would both my sisters.  She has company, she has activities every day, she has people tending to her every need, she has three course meals and she is safe. I am relieved.

The hardest bit of it all was the speed we had to move at from being offered a bed to get financials and admin sorted out, and  – most importantly – Mums assessment to see if after all the other hoops had been jumped through, she would actually be accepted. That was not a week I’d like to relive. (And I will write about some of the details in a future post as a few people have already asked how that all worked.)

Mum has friends already. She can’t remember their names and swears that she doesn’t know them when you ask, but  she sits next to them in the lounge and eats with them in the dining room and when they chat, she knows.  One of them held her had the other day when I asked if I could take a photo of them together. 💜

She has been there three weeks now and she’s baked, done arts and crafts, had an animal encounter session (where she held a giant African snail) , attended a couple of ‘concerts’,  a garden party with Pimms, and attended a birthday party, sat in the garden, sat in the coffee shop, had her hair cut at the on site hairdressers, danced and sung. It turns out she is a regular in the photos of activities on the homes facebook page.

A big part of the relief is that we have the space to look after Dad properly now.  And he can relax, not having to be Mum’s full time carer which was more than I think any of us realised.  Dad has been to visit Mum a couple of times and has seen that this was the right thing for her too.  I have asked if we could do a ‘buy one, get one free’ on the rooms so Dad can stay too, but apparently not….

And now we have just 4.5 days left of Mums 28 day trial period.  We are crossing fingers that we get through it without incident as one thing we did discover over the last month is that you’re kind of on your own when it comes to sorting all of this out, and that was quite scary. I think the odds are though, that we won’t have to go through that again and that Mum has found a new place to call home.

(And for anyone else reading this who is not there yet but knows the time might come one day, I can tell you that:

  1. the build up is the worst part
  2. if you’re doing it, it’s the right thing to do
  3. the benefits for everyone are more than you realise at the time)

🙂

 

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