11th August 2008

This week, Sue, Sarah and I joined a family ramble to Fineshade Woods, courtesy of Harborough Council. The outing began with drama. I was nearly left behind after previously refereeing a school football match and having to sprint the mile home to catch the bus. I made it in just over four minutes (honestly,  someone get the Olympic selectors on the phone). Sue and Sarah were already waiting in the Market Place with a mixed group of the elderly, the creaky, and a few bright-eyed youngsters (us, naturally). Their relief at my arrival was only slightly less than mine at not having collapsed en route.

Fineshade Woods, nestled somewhere between Corby and Peterborough, greeted us with a sweltering 53-seater coach journey. On a warm, sunny morning, the air-conditioning had decided to take the day off, which made for a particularly sweaty trip. So it was with considerable relief that we stumbled off the oven-on-wheels and breathed in some much-needed oxygen.

Once we gathered at the Forest Lodge, we were offered a choice: a gentle 3-mile stroll or a more ambitious 6-mile hike. We, being sprightly and possibly overconfident, opted for the longer trek, the less popular choice, but that only made us feel more heroic.

Our group leaders, bless them, managed to set off in entirely the wrong direction and only noticed the error when we found ourselves back at the starting point. Off we went again, take two. This time, a light drizzle added a touch of despondency, but soon the sun came out again and lifted everyone’s spirits. Sarah made friends with the walk leader and led the line like a pro. Sue and I, ever the backmarkers, trailed about 30 yards behind, taking in the scenery, admiring the wildlife, and casually solving the world’s problems.

We were treated to sightings of deer, red kites, rabbits, and roughly seven million trees (give or take a forest or two). Despite our leisurely pace, we somehow returned before the 3-milers. Either they got distracted by the gift shop, or we accidentally discovered a shortcut.

Lunch in the lodge café was fashionably late but thoroughly enjoyable. With ninety minutes to spare before the coach was due to depart, Sue and I wandered deeper into the woods to forage for cobnuts, a strangely satisfying pursuit that involves cracking them open with handy stones and eating the lot before you are tempted to save any for later.

The journey home was far more civilised, as the coach driver, bowing to popular pressure (and perhaps a few death stares), finally fixed the air conditioning. We rolled back into Harborough content, mildly sunburnt, and with the smug satisfaction of a day well spent.

A classic British outing: a bit of sweat, a touch of rain, minor navigation errors, and nuts in the woods. Smashing!