katstevens (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katstevens) wrote2008-07-26 08:04 pm
katstevens) wrote2008-07-26 08:04 pm
Entry tags:
Stomping.
Stanmore to Harrow & Wealdstone
Rations
Mini A-Z
Ordnance Survey Explorer Map London North
2 packets Seabrooks
1 large bottle water
1 pair new stomping boots
2x Oyster card
1x tiny sample bottle of Nivea suncream
0 pints beer
0 compasses (couldn't find compass)
Explorers
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boyofbadgers
katstevens
Decide that combination of day off work and muggiest weather of year so far makes for ideal walking conditions. London Overground proves tolerable enough, as do new stomping boots.
Walk along main thoroughfare of Stanmore, past a travel agency claiming the advantage of "we can do what the internet can't - talk to you!". Suggest proprietor of said agency turns up the speakers on his computer. Further along the road are a number of large old pubs which have been converted into modern hostelries with delightful signs proclaiming 'VODKA BAR' and 'THE CRAZY HORSE'.
Turning southward, adventurers leave behind such sites of binge drinking and face the mock-Tudor onslaught of Old Church Lane. One half of party suggests that inhabitants of nearby dwellings probably play golf. Suspicions are confirmed when path leads us to golf course. Note a dread sign upon golf course (around the side of which Ordnance Survey map shows a footpath) stating that all trespassers will be shot; after some deliberation decide to forfeit our constitutional rights and go round the back streets just to be on the safe side.
Walk past 'Golf Close' etc munching crisps, hoping to rejoin footpath which Ordnance Survey says is a dismantled railway. Realise one half of party isn't exactly sure what road they are now on; stop on street corner where a number of squashed cola bottle sweets are scattered around the pavement as a suitable landmark. A confused lady in a car pulls up and asks party for directions. Party tells her they haven't got a clue, whilst waving our A-Z about helplessly. Soon party spots a house at the end of a road, with two footpaths going either side of it that join up round the back. Rejoice at finding dismantled railway, happily march on south-westwards.
Dismantled railway is now officially named 'Belmont Nature Walk'. Sign proclaiming this is situated just as Belmont Nature Walk is crudely interrupted by a medium-sized car park,a violence an 'interesting' pub called 'Angie V' (presumably Angies I-IV burned down?), and Kenton Lane. Luckily for party, southern side of Belmont Nature Walk is accessible via a semi-grim underpass. Blackberries await lucky adventurers on the other side. Continue past primary school; passing teenagers correctly identifying party as 'explorers!'; man attacking hedge with spade in attempt to find buried treasure; cemetary.
End of Belmont Nature Walk is marked by a huge pile of dog excrement. Seriously, like about seven dogs must have shat there to make that much poo. Attempt to remove traces of poo from within treads of new stomping boots with stick. Half of party realises that they have visited the area previously for i) competitive swimming event ii) unsuccessful job fair when on the dole. Hurry onwards to aid repression of both memories, down unremarkable terraced street. Wonder whether Wealdstone smells of dog excrement generally, or whether party has failed to eradicate last trace from stomping boots.
Arrive at final destination just in time for rush hour; decide that going straight home for sausages and mash are preferable to sampling the pub delights that Wealdstone has to offer, vowing to return for Watford leg of adventures soon.
Rations
Mini A-Z
Ordnance Survey Explorer Map London North
2 packets Seabrooks
1 large bottle water
1 pair new stomping boots
2x Oyster card
1x tiny sample bottle of Nivea suncream
0 pints beer
0 compasses (couldn't find compass)
Explorers
boyofbadgerskatstevensDecide that combination of day off work and muggiest weather of year so far makes for ideal walking conditions. London Overground proves tolerable enough, as do new stomping boots.
Walk along main thoroughfare of Stanmore, past a travel agency claiming the advantage of "we can do what the internet can't - talk to you!". Suggest proprietor of said agency turns up the speakers on his computer. Further along the road are a number of large old pubs which have been converted into modern hostelries with delightful signs proclaiming 'VODKA BAR' and 'THE CRAZY HORSE'.
Turning southward, adventurers leave behind such sites of binge drinking and face the mock-Tudor onslaught of Old Church Lane. One half of party suggests that inhabitants of nearby dwellings probably play golf. Suspicions are confirmed when path leads us to golf course. Note a dread sign upon golf course (around the side of which Ordnance Survey map shows a footpath) stating that all trespassers will be shot; after some deliberation decide to forfeit our constitutional rights and go round the back streets just to be on the safe side.
Walk past 'Golf Close' etc munching crisps, hoping to rejoin footpath which Ordnance Survey says is a dismantled railway. Realise one half of party isn't exactly sure what road they are now on; stop on street corner where a number of squashed cola bottle sweets are scattered around the pavement as a suitable landmark. A confused lady in a car pulls up and asks party for directions. Party tells her they haven't got a clue, whilst waving our A-Z about helplessly. Soon party spots a house at the end of a road, with two footpaths going either side of it that join up round the back. Rejoice at finding dismantled railway, happily march on south-westwards.
Dismantled railway is now officially named 'Belmont Nature Walk'. Sign proclaiming this is situated just as Belmont Nature Walk is crudely interrupted by a medium-sized car park,
End of Belmont Nature Walk is marked by a huge pile of dog excrement. Seriously, like about seven dogs must have shat there to make that much poo. Attempt to remove traces of poo from within treads of new stomping boots with stick. Half of party realises that they have visited the area previously for i) competitive swimming event ii) unsuccessful job fair when on the dole. Hurry onwards to aid repression of both memories, down unremarkable terraced street. Wonder whether Wealdstone smells of dog excrement generally, or whether party has failed to eradicate last trace from stomping boots.
Arrive at final destination just in time for rush hour; decide that going straight home for sausages and mash are preferable to sampling the pub delights that Wealdstone has to offer, vowing to return for Watford leg of adventures soon.