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Saturday's penultimate TADS walk of 2025 was longer than most - and it was windier than most - but, I think and hope, it was just as much fun as most as well. I certainly enjoyed it and though a couple of the others definitely struggled in places the mood remained buoyant even on the steepest hill of the day and there was plenty of laughter throughout. As a reward, I'll make next month's season closer more of a jolly than a yomp. People can bring games in and they don't have to wear their uniforms!
I'd woken up early (of course), wished my friend Tony a happy birthday (a birthday he shares with the occasional TADS family friendly spin off group TADpoleS which turned ten on Saturday), and walked down to Crofton Park where I bought a Guardian in the nearby Co-op (perusing the headlines, a fellow shopper surveyed the state of the world and declared, not incorrectly, "it's all gone to shit"), and arrived a few seconds late for the 0907 to St.Mary Cray.
Which didn't really matter as I had planned to take the 0937 station. Which, after half an hour pacing up and down the platform - I knew it'd be a big steps day so why not get started early?, I did. I changed at St Mary Cray and, on the train to Meopham, I found Pam, Shep, Adam, Teresa, James, and Jason. A good turnout already and Roxanne and Clive were yet to join us.
Having warned the gang that the first pub of the walk would not arrive for eight miles, we left the train at Meopham and noticed an Indian restaurant at the station itself. It wasn't open yet and, after a twenty minute walk down the A227/Wrotham Road, when we arrived at the planned brunch venue, Cafe Lounge, it was heaving.
They said there wouldn't be a table for at least forty-five minutes and we decided that was too long and, instead, repaired to Costa Coffee where I had a Heinz Beanz & Cheese toastie (spelling:Costa's own), a pack of Teddy Pom-Bears, a very nice millionaire shortbread (do millionaires really eat them regularly?), and an orange Fanta while Adam told a story about a whale's bum.
Roxanne and Clive arrived, freshly returned from lovely Lisbon, and we headed out into that Kentish Countryside. Even if, to begin with, we had to carry on along the side of the road. There was a bit too much road walking on this trek and that's on me.
It wasn't long before, near the Meopham Village Hall (and its impressive retro font), we turned off and we were soon passing through the rolling green hills of Kentish legend and, obviously, fact. Meopham is a strange place. At seven miles long (but with virtually no depth) it's one of the longest linear settlements in the whole of England. Its name means 'Meapa's village' and it dates from the reign of King Offa (757-796). In the 12th century, Benedictine monks established a priory hospital, and in 1801 a windmill, a smock-mill in fact, was built by John Killick. Known as Killick Mill it still stands (we saw it, some of us, across the fields) and was once used in an episode of The Prisoner.
Famous Meophamites (if that's even the correct demonym) include the artists Graham Sutherland and Spencer Gore, former Opportunity Knocks supremo Hughie Green ("and I mean that most sincerely, folks"), the composer, and co-founder of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, Daphne Oram, and Michael Gambon who, of course, appeared in The Singing Detective, The Cook The Thief His Wife And Her Lover, and Gosford Park. John Major also has a link. He's a patron of Meopham cricket club and it was from Meopham he stood on his famous soapbox in the 1992 general election campaign. I didn't like him then but imagine a member of the Tory party being as reasonable as he was now!
Soon the group were spreading out, Shep at the front as usual, but it wasn't long before we all grouped together because the path we'd been following presented us with a dilemma. There was a gate with a sign strictly forbidding access, there was an option to go through a forest that didn't look very well walked, or a choice to walk round the edge of a field until we found an opening.
Possibly we should have chose the second option but we chose the third and it took a while to find an opening. Shep, James, Teresa, and myself passed through a barbed wire fence while the others walked a little further to find a proper gate. We all reconvened on Idleigh Court Road, and making way for occasional cars - one whose driver told us he had to walk up the hill we were on every night drunk (not sure he HAS do do that) - made our way to Hartley Bottom Road and, then, Hartley Hill.
Obviously talk of Pipkins and impressions of Hartley Hare and the imaginatively named Pig happened. There were road sections, there were forested sections, and there were high up sections completely exposed to the wind which was never behind our backs and was almost always right into us. We saw a lovely silhouetted sign at Longview, a garden that - oddly, had some kind of Easter Island head statue in it, views across to Dartford and the towers of the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge, and James mucked about inside a pylon although, fortunately, didn't end up becoming a poster boy for some future safety infomercial.
There were horses, a big bonfire, and a lovely church which Teresa seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of interest in. I thought it was because she loved churches but it turned out she desperately needed a wee and thought it might have a toilet. It probably did but it wasn't open. As we continued through the windy fields I considered treating everyone to my celebrated crisp packet impression but decided better of it and, eventually, we crossed under the railway line, picked up Rabbits Road for a long, uneventful, and quite busy with traffic, stretch into South Darenth and, finally, the pub.
A pub, The Jolly Miller, that Shep awarded a "solid" six out of ten and one I needed to use the facilities in before I could even touch my pint of Madri. We took two tables of high stools and I sat with Jason, James (aka - the King of Jacobean Chimneys or, simply, Chimney-Chops), and Shep as we talked about the miner's strike, football, and whether or not democracy can survive social media.
Inevitably, a two pint mistake was made and as the pub was pretty busy it felt much later in the day than it actually was so that by the time we left I found myself blinking in the sunlight like a tipsy sailor at daybreak.
We'd already passed by, or near, the settlements of New Ash Green, Fawkham, Longfield, Pinden, and Horton Kirby but I'd not had much to say about any of them. Fawkham (population:- 429) is at least near the motor racing cirruit Brands Hatch which, between 1964 and 1986 hosted the British Formula One Grand Prix or at least shared it with Silverstone. They took turns but in 1987, and every year since, Silverstone has held it.
Jim Clark won at Brands in 1964 in a Lotus and the last winner, in 1986, was Nigel Mansell (driving a Williams). Other famous winners include Niki Lauda, Emerson Fittipaldi, and Jody Scheckter. On leaving the pub Adam, Teresa, James, and Clive went straight to another pub - The Bridges - near the impressive viaduct you can see here - with the plan of taking the train from nearby Farningham Road station and meeting us in the curry house in Swanley. Although Clive went straight home from Farningham Road.
The remaining five of us edged along Dartford Road, crossed it, and made our way across a ridge and between lots of canvas houses that were growing flowers. The views back to South Darent, and the tower of the local mill, looked very impressive in the golden hour and Pam, who is the best photographer among us - and has the best camera to be fair, managed to catch it in all its glory. Of course that is the photo that heads up this blogged account of the walk.
I phoned the Indian restaurant and booked us a table and as we passed along Ship Lane to, and under, the M25 and on to Swanley Village, Shep and myself discussed what songs Half Man Half Biscuit and The Wedding Present have played live the most times. The Trumpton Riots and Kennedy predictably. Thanks setlist.fm.
Soon, and now on the western side of the 20 mile long Thames tributary they call the Darent (it flows from Oxted to near Erith and has a lot of flour and paper mills along it - or once did), we reached the toasty and welcoming Lamb Inn where we took a corner table and Jason delivered an emotional panegryic about how wonderful his partner Sharon is - and she is too. I thought I had something in my eye at one point. Sharon had hoped to join us for the evening but was, impressively, helping her mum with a black history month presentation in Putney and time was against her.
Shep awarded the pub a "solid" seven (that man loves to talk about solids when he's consuming liquids) and we walked the final 2k or so through Swanley Village (Shep's rarely impressed with posh houses but he liked the ones here, they were nice and had character, and even said he'd like to live there) and into Swanley proper. Roxanne and myself had dropped back and she wasn't joining us for the curry so I said goodbye to her at the end of the High Street and headed to Namaste where the others were already in situ, some with pints of Cobra in front of them.
I soon joined them. The poppadums were good, the lime pickle got good reviews (pretty spicy), and my paneer dansak and naan were perfectly decent as we all yakked away about something that seemed interesting at the time but I can barely remember now even though I wasn't drunk. Over the limit I'd imagine but not drunk.
Of course one thing I can remember is that I did a final round of spiel and even a couple of amiable and well travelled diners at the next table joined in. Swanley's name is said to mean a clearing for pigs. A ley is a clearing and the swan bits comes from the word swine. It's twinned with Fastiv in Ukraine and Verrieres-le-Buisson in France, and Wasps rugby football club, currently in administration, are looking to build a stadium in Swanley.
Swanley notables include the comedian Mark Steel (big cheer for him), AC Milan and England footballer Ruben Loftus-Cheek, cricketer Alan Knott, and Mike Stock of S/A/W. We finished our food, didn't have time to visit the recommended craft beer place (formerly a public toilet), and made our way to Swanley station. Shep and I doubling back to Londis to get some train booze.
Shep, Jason, James, Adam, and Teresa took their train (after a quick game of Heads up, the train and station favourite) and then Pam and I got ours. We did the Guardian crossword on the way and I hopped off at Crofton Park and walked back home. By the time I arrived home I'd notched up a 2025 record of 45,119 steps which is about nineteen and half miles.
Thirteen of which had been on the walk. A good workout but, more importantly, a good day. Thanks to Pam, Shep, Adam, Teresa, James, Jason, Roxanne, and Clive for joining me and special thanks to Pam for the extra photos for this blog (as ever) and Adam for his editorship (as ever). For which, read his help in reading and understanding maps and GPS. The walks would be a lot tougher without that assistance.
Next month it's Insane In The Crane, Hayes to Isleworth, and that's the last walk of what, so far, has been a cracking TADS year. Hope to see you there.
