How not to recce part 2

“Hi Marilyn, it’s Susie. Where are you? I should have mentioned that I turned left at the road. I’m coming into a village now, but it’s too dark to read the road sign [sound of a car approaching in the background] – ah! It’s Hurstbourne Priors. Please ring me!”

If you missed part 1, let me quickly recap. After a flat battery incident, Marilyn and I had got separated recce-ing leg 3 of the Test Way relay. Marilyn was now waiting for me in her car at the end of the leg, and I was trying to get to her by road having abandoned the Test Way due to nightfall. I had also unwittingly added an extra 4 or 5 miles to my journey by picking the wrong direction to head off down the road. I have left several phone messages, each of a slightly more anxious tone.

I should perhaps mention at this point, that having now seen the changeover point in daylight, there was no way I was ever going to find it by road at night, as it’s in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t of course know this at the time and was particularly optimistic, heading into civilisation, that a helpful local could quickly point me in the right direction and reunite me with my ride home!

A minor complication in all these plans was that I had walked off the edge of the map over a mile back. I know some of you may now have a Monty Python-esque image of a cartoon Susie tumbling over the edge of an abyss having walked off the edge of the map, but the psychological reality of the situation is not so far removed from this. It is a little disconcerting walking in pitch darkness not knowing where you are heading and knowing that even if you could see the map you are holding, it may be of little or no value. It was rather reassuring then to arrive at Hurstbourne Priors, and the George Inn!

“Anyone any good with maps?” I said as I slapped the map on the bar.
“We are here”, I said pointing at the beer mat, “and I need to get here”. Pointing at the rendezvous point marked quite clearly by a circle near Middleton Farm.

With hindsight I should perhaps more accurately have been pointing at the beer glass rather than the beer mat, as I’d gone a lot further off the map than I realised, but let’s face it, showing someone a map which doesn’t actually have their village on it and gesturing somewhere to the right of it isn’t too helpful! At least everyone was in agreement that they had no idea where the rendezvous was, but if I was to head down the road to Longparish, they would have a better idea there.
“It’s only a short drive down the road – can’t be more than 3 miles away”
and seeing my rather crestfallen expression
“How did you get here?”

A conversation then followed along the lines of 7 miles of running not actually being that far, and no I wasn’t tired as I’d been running quite slowly, and yes I had done the London Marathon. It was then that I got an offer of a lift from a gentleman sitting at the bar, and without really too much hesitation, I took it! People have queried the wisdom of driving off into the night with a total stranger, but it was quite clear he was a regular, and he had offered in full view of everyone there. It seemed safe enough, so off we went!

We soon arrived at The Cricketers Arms in Longparish, and pretty much the same scenario played out as I slapped on the bar a photocopied map, which didn’t actually show Longparish on it. Theories abounded though about where the rendezvous was. We were definitely within a few miles of it. It’s just south of here. It’s just north of here. It’s a short walk down the road. It’s a short drive up the road. I thanked them all for their help, and decided to carry on down the road with my extremely patient chauffeur.

Progress! We arrived at The Plough which I recognised as a pub we had visited last year and which had the Test Way running through its garden. I now knew we were definitely south of the rendezvous, but how far south I still had no idea, as we were still off the map. I got a shock when I entered the pub – it was empty! There were just 2 people - both staff. At least there would be no conflicting directions! I was proved right in this. They had no idea at all! Their best advice was to go back to the Cricketers and ask there.

My chauffeur, whose name I never discovered (!), was brilliant. We got back in the car and drove back to the Cricketers Arms. Further enquiries were made with similar results. A guy even pointed at what was clearly marked as a dismantled railway line and insisted it was the A303. An establishment serving alcohol is not a good place to ask directions!

I realised that the rendezvous was at Middleton Farm so asked if anyone knew where that was.
“Middleton House is just up the road – you’ve come past it – it’s the big house with all the lights”
I was sceptical that Middleton House and Middleton Farm were one and the same (I was right) but conceded that we would give it a go. As we were leaving, a couple gave me their phone number, assuring me I had a bed for the night if all else failed. This whole experience was restoring my faith in human nature! By the way, the couple’s name was the Tipples. How appropriate!

On we drove. We knew we had to keep an eye out for Marilyn’s car.
“What car does your friend drive?”
“A red one”, I’m embarrassed to admit was my answer. I tried to think what she drove, and thought it might be an Astra. The true irony of all this is realised when you consider who I’m currently contracted to: Vauxhall Motors!

Not surprisingly, we were fruitless in our latest search, and I decided it was best if my chauffeur dropped me off back at The Plough. At least it was on the Test Way and was a pub I knew Marilyn had mentioned. As he left me, he got out his wallet and offered me some money. Bless him! I politely refused, and bade him farewell. What a saint!

Back in The Plough, the barman now decided that the rendezvous must only be just round the corner. He seemed quite certain, insisting that the pub was on the edge of the circle Marilyn had drawn around the rendezvous, which put it only a 100m or so up the road at the side of the pub. This seemed reasonable as I would be heading back up the Test Way, so I decided to give the dark countryside one more go. He was of course quite wrong about the distance – it was at least half a mile away – but at least I knew the direction was right.

At first I was OK as the light from the village houses lit the path a little. Soon though, I was right back at square one – the darkness was intense – I couldn’t see a thing. Back in the Monty Python world though, a big hand had just placed cartoon Susie back on the edge of the map. Not that I knew this of course, or could see the damn thing!

I gave up in my quest once more, and with visions of an overnight stay in Longparish, turned to head back to The Plough. Then the phone rang!
“Susie, it’s Marilyn, where are you?”
“I’m at The Plough”
“No you’re not, I’m there!”


A point to note is that when your mobile goes dead, you can’t access any of the numbers stored in it! Fortunately Marilyn had my number stored in her personal organiser, also battery powered, so could phone from the pub. All’s well that ends well, as someone once wrote!

And I’ll repeat once more: thank you Marilyn for an excellent adventure!