Pluckley

Last Friday, I walked from Pluckley station to Rooting and then turned back. Learning from my previous experience, I chose a much gentler walk from my book of walks. There was no-one around except a farmer in his tractor. There were some very fine trees on the edges of large fields of mono-crops of broad beans and wheat. The silence was deafening. It was a bit dull walking back the way I came. Unlike Seaford, there were no handy benches to rest – not even at the station – and no ice cream vans for my revival. So a proper country walk.

I was glad to climb onto the train home as I was fairly tired. I struggled to leave home and almost didn’t. The walk description mentioned stiles which made me nervous – I have fallen over stiles quite a few times and I was fearful that I would be injured and unable to get help. My lack of trust in my body caused delays at the outset whilst I calmed myself down. Armed with a map, a phone and some numbers of taxi companies, I eventually made it out the door. Fortunately, the stiles had been replaced by gates. I turned back before reaching a stile, described as decrepit, in the book.

The benefit came next day. I felt happy.