TADS #54:Hook to Basingstoke (or Steadfast In Service).

Basingstoke's motto, Steadfast In Service, does not, as some of us with puerile minds might like to imagine, refer to the perceived performance of the town's infamously priapic statue the Wote Street Willy. Rather less interestingly it is believed it reflects on the quiet and industrious nature of the town's population. Hmmm.

 

Basingstoke has been much mocked over the years but having grown up nearby I became very familiar with the place, even briefly living there, and I came to love it. Although as a Tadley person, very begrudgingly. It was often portrayed as a shit town with good people or as Boringstoke back in the old days. Slagged off as a London overspill. But in recent years you're more likely to hear people refer to it as Amazingstoke. 

With their tongue only half in cheek! Reflecting on last year's Tadley TADS trek, Neil Bacchus said he loved doing a walk where many of us could sleep over and where we could meet for lunch again the next day. He suggested we do one in Basingstoke to start this year and I thought that was a great idea so I set about writing one - and then made it the 2023 season opener. From Hook to Basingstoke through areas that nobody on the walk (despite an approximate combined 400 years of living in the region) had ever visited before. We even crossed rivers whose names nobody had heard before. There is, it seems, no end of surprises on our own doorsteps should we only take the trouble to look.

I'd woken early, taken the 363 bus to Crystal Palace, one train to Clapham Junction where I met Pam, and then two more. First to Woking and then on to Hook. At Hook station we met with Neil B, Bee, Tina, Neil W, and Denim Nick. So named because he used to rock the double denim with no little panache. I'd not seen him for about twenty years and even though he didn't recognise me until I took my woolly hat off it was good to see him again.

We walked along the A30/London Road through Hook (alas our friends Ben & Vicki, both of whom once lived in Hook, were unable to join us as they were in Manchester doing a Coronation Street tour). There was a major diversion where a new Sainsbury's is being built but it wasn't long before we reached, first time ever for me, The Shack Cafe and met with Shep, Laura, Adam, James, Gwen, and Colin. 

The Shack Cafe's got an interesting history. Ben sent me a link the day before the walk which told me it was first erected during World War I and has stood there ever since. It survived World War II bombing and it even survived a visit by Chas'n'Dave. They didn't get served though as the cafe was closed.

The best story was probably the one about a former owner Mr Baker who kept funfair rides in the land behind the cafe and used to ride a motorbike and sidecar round a wall of death with a lion in the sidecar. Pretty sure that would fall far short on both animal cruelty and health and safety fronts these days.

I had a delicious meal of crinkle cut chips, baked beans, bread and butter washed down with a cup of tea. Pam was very impressed with her veggie breakfast and Gwen's scrambled egg on toast with brown sauce looked pretty good too. Everyone seemed pretty happy and I was pleased to put my hands on my side and proudly announce a 'good turnout'.

Hook, initially, was a series of farms on the stagecoach route between London and Exeter. Inns sprang up to serve those passing through and eventually it grew into a village and now a small town with a population just shy of 8,000. The parish church, St John the Evangelist) was designed by Edward Maufe, a man more famous for Guildford Cathedral and St Columba's in Knightsbridge.

Thomas Burberry died in Hook, aged 90, in 1926. We left the cafe, crossed the A30, and cut down a lane by the side of The Crooked Billet pub and into the Whitewater Meadows. We briefly followed the Whitewater river. A pretty short river, it's just twelve miles long and eventually flows into the Blackwater which itself flows into the Loddon and, finally, the Thames).

It was a picturesque stretch of fast(ish) flowing water, gently rolling fields, and towering pylons above. Lots of different pylons including one that Shep decided looked like a Belgian pylon! We eventually reached the B3349/Reading Road and had to negotiate a short, roughly one hundred metre, stretch with no pavement before cutting in more open fields, sometimes with imposing solitary trees silhouetted against the greyish (but dry) sky.

Adam was using his GPS device to help me orientate the route and decided he'd call it Little Dave. This soon led to a few people singing the theme tune to 1970s kids TV favourite Big John, Little John and having a debate about the lyrics. A quick listen proved it's "what a way to grow" and not "what a way to go".

This was such fun that it wasn't long before we were crossing Green Lane (a road on the map, barely a path in reality) and the village of Rotherwick was in front of us. A pub stop would be happening earlier than usual but, even more surprisingly, we were actually running early. A two pint mistake, it seemed, was inevitable (there'd already been a 'two tea mistake' back in the Shack).

The Coach & Horses in Rotherwick is a nice pub. I'd visited on one of Alex's TADpoleS walks several years ago and we'd sat in the garden looking out at the countryside but it wasn't so warm today so we sat inside with Coco the dog. As Colin's protocol dictates he bought me a pint of Bunny Chaser from the Longdog Brewery and soon we were joined by Darren (who'd done a 5k park run in a fairly decent time that morning), Cheryl, Tommy, and Luca.

Not long after that, Tony, Alex, Grace, Izzie, and Freddie arrived. Now all fully recovered from a recent bout of covid. We'd now pretty much taken over half the pub. James had bought three one third pints of different ales (but still asked if he could try some of Adam's 1% beer) and it would have been easy to get a bit too comfy in there. Neil W felt so at home he loudly announced he was off to do a "pub poo".

Sat by the roaring fire, Tina got me my next drink. The Bunny Chaser was off but another local beer was on. Moondance from the Triple Brewery in Alton. I had that. It was good. They both were. We left the non-walkers there and headed off. There would be a lot of pee stops behind trees from that point on. For some of the men at least.

Rotherwick's a pretty little village. With a population of just over 500, its main attraction (apart from the pub, of course), is its small parish church. Donated, as was a nearby village hall, from an American couple in the 1930s, it looked pretty with the blossoming tree in front of it.

There's a small lake and an interesting looking house with windows that protrude out on to the street and, according to Adam, used to have a rocking horse in the window for years making it look like a shop. We followed The Street (there's really only one road in Rotherwick) on to Post Horn Lane before taking a right into Stroud's Green Lane which would slowly curl south and cut through Tylney Park Golf Club.

Some of the trees had had their barks partially removed and looked particularly photogenic. For the first time some of Basingstoke's taller buildings (the Fanum House, the tower block in Oakridge, and Skyline Plaze which replaced Fanum House as the town's tallest in recent years) and they looked farther away than I felt they should be. Perhaps this would be a longer walk than planned.

At least we hadn't made any wrong turns and - quite rare this - didn't all day. Eventually the path through the golf course became a road (of sorts):- Lone Barn Lane. This came out on Newnham Road where we turned right and, passing a sign incorrectly warning of ice, we crossed the river Lyde by a very beautiful old mill house.

The Lyde flows for just 6.2 miles (from Mapledurwell to Sherfield-on-Loddon) before joining the Loddon. The footpath took us through the enormous garden (it even had a tennis court) of the aforesaid mill house and through another field to the side of the railway line where we followed a thin path, and one with quite an unfortunate camber) along the edge of the fields.

We'd occasionally come off on to road for a bit but mostly be on this path until we reached Basing. Except, that is, for a brief part where we had to walk through a field with two horses in it. As soon as they noticed us entering their field they came over to give us the once over. They were stroked and cooed at. The black and white one soon lost interest and wandered off to eat some grass but the bay horse with the jacket on turned out to be something of a character.

In turns, that horse would follow us, walk in front of us, or even stand in front of us in what seemed like a half-hearted attempt to block us. Horses are big so I don't like to get too close so I was near the front of the pack as we trudged through their field. Then I heard a bit of a commotion and looked round to see Tina running and the horse running after.

She got out of the field just as a noisy train went past and this startled the bay horse again. It ran straight past Pam and back across the field, kicking its heels like a bucking bronco as it went. Tina had mentioned a few minutes before that she'd been chased, over the years, by both a goose and a pig. She can now add a horse to that list!

When we reached the footbridge over the railway line, Colin (a former Basing resident as a kid) knew where he was. When we passed Basing cemetery and entered Basing so did many others. There was a brief debate about the route we'd take to get to Barton's Mill and I lost. Neil W made it known he was not impressed with Barton's Mill as a pub. Too expensive (true) with rude staff (not my experience).

He felt there were better pubs in Basing but I was dead set on going to Barton's Mill for various reasons and, via some parts of the former Basing House, lots of cute thatched cotttages, some interesting topiary, and the curiously named Milkingpen Lane, that's what we did. The normal pub part was shut but they'd erected a heated tent to the side so we had our drinks in there. The staff were friendly but the drinks were indeed expensive and I must concede that Neil W was probably right.

The Loddon flows through the beer garden of Barton's Mill (Bugsy even won a rubber duck race there once) and sometimes Civil War reenactment societies meet there for drinks and role play. The Loddon is near the start of its 28 mile journey to the Thames in Wargrave here. In the river you can find bream, chub, roach, barbel, rudd, carp, and pike but, unlike the Whitewater it seems, no brown trout (or, if you prefer 'brahn traht').

The Enlightment era poet Alexander Pope (1688-1744) invented a Loddon nymph, a kind of female nature deity called Lodona and I forced the walkers to listen to parts of his very lengthy, and quite confusing, poem about it. I was tempted to also read aloud about the cultural influences of the river and the history of its milling industry but judging by the reaction to the poem it was probably best I didn't.

I did, however, treat them to a recital of Edward Lear's limerick about Basing from his Book of Nonense:-

There was an Old Person of Basing

Whose presence of mind was amazing

He purchased a steed

Which he rode at full speed

And escaped from the people of Basing

That is one lazy last line, Lear and, all things considered, quite a shit limerick. It's no Owl and the Pussycat, mate. Though I did wonder if that 'steed' that he rode at full speed may have been a forebear of the one who had chased Tina earlier! 

Luckily, there is some more interesting history regarding Old Basing. Or at least I thought so. In the late 9th century Anglo-Saxon chronicle, during the reign of TADS favourite Alfred the Great, it was called Basengum and in the Domesday Book (1086, William the Conqueror) it had the name Basinges. First settled in the sixth century by a proto Anglo-Saxon tribe, the Basingas, during the ninth century it became a royal estate. In January 871 a Viking army defeated King Aethelred of Wessex and his brother, the future Alfred the Great. That became known as the Battle of Basing.

Neaby Basing House, closed as we passed, is a Tudor palace that was once the rival of Hampton Court in both size and opulence. Mostly now in ruins (though there's a drawing below of what it once looked like), it was built in 1531 as a palace for William Paulet, the 1st Marquess of Winchester and treasurer to Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I. Elizabeth was so taken by the place she told Paulet that if he was a younger men she'd marry him so she could live there. He was fifty years her senior.

During the English Civil War, the 5th Marquess - John Paulet - was a Royalist supporter of Charles I so parliamentarians besieged Basing House three times. Twice they were held off but in 1645, under Colonel John Dalbier, they succeeded in taking it. Oliver Cromwell himself arrived to personally oversee the takeover.

After a spell in the Tower of London, John Paulet returned to Basing House following the Restoration. Charles II had returned it to him. John's son, Charles Paulet,  the 1st Duke of Bolton, became wealthy due to supporting William II/William of Orange during the Glorious Revolution. He used his wealth to build a new home at nearby Hackwood and most of Basing House was demolished.

We continued along the brilliantly named Swing Swang Lane (Basingstoke's only real rival is Fuzzy Drove), down Basing Road (past the Hampshire Clinic), and under the A339 into Eastrop Park. A park rich in memories of drinking vodka, mucking around in the boating lake, and jumping in the paddling pool fully clothed. Eastrop Park takes you into the bright lights of Basingstoke and to a Wetherspoons pub called The Angel.

I don't like to give Brexit bellend Tim Martin money but my boycott ended with a visit to one of these cavernous drinking dens in Bognor Regis fourteen months ago and I was outvoted so we popped in for a quick one (I had a Corona, the supporting local beer thing had gone south) and to meet Helen who was joining us for the evening. Afterwards, we crossed Festival Place and passed the infamous Wote Street Willy, Chennai Express (recent winner of best Indian restaurant in the south), and the statue of Jane Austen and made our way to my dining venue of choice:- Agra.

It says something about the nature of the people of Basingstoke that a giant granite schlong is more celebrated than a statue of one of the country's most revered authors but the big question was probably why did we walk past an award winning Indian restaurant to go to another Indian restaurant?

Well, I didn't know Chennai Express would win that award when I booked it. Anyway, it looked very small. Agra is marginally bigger but it was a squeeze to get thirteen of us in (Denim Nick and Colin had bailed out for the evening session) but they managed and soon the Banglas were, inevitably, flowing.

I had a veggie dansak and a garlic nan and it was only the next morning I realised my pilau rice didn't come. Carole and Dylan had joined us for the meal and it was good to hear the news about their new shower and Dylan's studies. I, of course, read out some Basingstoke history and listed some notables.

The earliest known settlement in the area is a Neolithic campsite from around 3000BC and the Willis Museum has flint and axes from even earlier (Palaeolithic times, 10,000BC). In 1086, in The Domesday Book, Basingstoke is noted as being a weekly market site. Cromwell is believed to have stayed in Basingstoke during the siege of Basing House and in the 17th century malting, brewing, and the cloth industry became important in the area.

Hundreds of years later there was even a band called Cloth doing the rounds! In 1839 the railways came to Basingstoke and in the 19c the town moved into industrial manufacture. Steam engines, traction engines, threshing machines etc; Thornycroft's, making buses, coaches, and trucks, became the town's largest employer. In 1856, Thomas Burberry opened his first store in the town and, one year later, Alfred Milward opened his first shoe shop here.

Brewing continued to be so important that the brewer John May was three times mayor of Basingstoke. The town suffered very little World War II bomb damage but big change came when Basingstoke, along with other towns like Ashford in Kent and Swindon, was rapidly developed as part of the London Overspill plan. The Malls were built and later Festival Place, the town was full of West Ham fans watching the football scores through the windows of Radio Rentals, and the town even twinned with Alencon in France, Euskirchen in Germany, and Braine-l-Alled in Belgium.

Getting closer to Europe! Imagine! So those famous names, those notables, it's a mixed bag. Wikipedia lists Jane Austen, Sima Kotecha, Waldemar Januszczak, John Arlott, E.O. Higgins (wtf? he pulled me out of a bed at his brother's house in Belfast once), Carl Barat, Steve Lamacq (hmmm), Shelley Conn, Liz Hurley, Shaun Udal, Ruth Ellis, Tanita Tikaram, Ramon Tikaram (who I used to see in the subway busking his sister's Good Tradition before finding fame as an actor in This Life and Happy Valley), the golfer Justin Rose, footballers like Tom Cleverly, Alex Bogdanovic, Dean Francis, and Kit Symons (who went to school with Tina and stole her skipping rope), Thomas Burberry, Kathy Smallwood-Cook (she went to my school and I think you'll find she's from Tadley), Dr Hilary Jones, Sarah Ferguson the Duchess of York, and Arthur Wellesley the Duke of Wellington.

Quite a list. A jolly old time was had and afterwards, after a brief hello to Trugnug, a few of us went to The Tea Bar for more drinks and to hear a covers band, a pretty decent one to be fair, play songs by The Strokes, Franz Ferdinand, and The Kaiser Chiefs. I left before they ended their set with Sex On Fire and, of course, Mr Brightside.

Which was a pity as you hardly ever get to hear those songs! I took a taxi back to my folks in Tadley. Next day they dropped me in Basingstoke and Neil and Bee treated me to cheese omelette, chips, and a can of Coke in Poppins before I headed back to London feeling very satisfied that the first walk of the ninth (NINTH) TADS season had gone so well.

Thanks to Pam, Neil B, Bee, Tina, Neil W, Denim Nick, Shep, Laura, Adam, James, Colin, Gwen, Darren, Cheryl, Tommy (& Luca), Tony, Alex, Grace, Izzie  (& Freddie), Helen, Carole, Dylan, Teresa, Dad, and Mum for being part of this event and thanks (again) to Pam, Adam, Tina, Neil W, Bee, and Colin for the mappage and snappage provided here. A walk is only as good as the people who come on it and this one was particularly good. TADS reconvene next month, April, for a walk over Box Hill from Dorking to Reigate. It's called Flowers Of Romance and some of you will be able to work out why.