Playing by the rules
Posted under Day Trips
Little Miss Goodie Two Shoes, that’s me. Seems Bertie has inherited my tendencies since he quite often will anxiously enquire as to whether something that we’re doing is allowed. “Are you absolutely allowed to park the car here?”, he asked as we parked up on a grassy bank near to the start of the walk we did yesterday. If truth be known I’m not sure, but other people do it and thus I applied the ‘safety in numbers’ rule.
What I especially dislike, and actually stresses me out, is going ‘off the beaten path’… I keep to the footpath, strictly. MrSpud? Not so much, he’ll happily wander if it looks interesting enough/isn’t clearly marked as private/is a path that others have clearly trodden.
An interesting kind of pathway was spotted as we pottered along, but it was NOT A FOOTPATH. REPEAT…NOT AN ACTUAL FOOTPATH. They scrambled up a steep bank with me bleating at the back, and they were off.
I wasn’t happy. Up, up, up we went…leaving the nice and legal footpath down, down, down below. Worse, as we reached the top I spotted – scream – a dwelling through the trees.
Almost on the verge of tears at this point I sternly ordered my menfolk back. They ignored me. Even Bertie, the traitor. MrSpud pressed on muttering something about it ‘not being marked private’. Hesitating, I followed…heart in mouth and steeling myself for the inevitable confrontation with some old bloke and a shotgun.
No old bloke appeared. But what a weird place it was. All boarded up, locked but clearly still in use given the smell of booze wafting about.
Who lives in a house like this? It’s very reminiscent of every scout hut I’ve ever been to a dodgy disco in and certainly its position, hidden deep in the woods, would suggest something along those lines. Even stranger, a bunker just along from the hut…
And signs of a fire a stone’s throw away:
We scrambled back down to the official path and I instantly felt a lot happier, though slightly giddy at my brush with ‘danger’. I won’t go back, I’m too chicken, I’m too afraid of trolls and shouty old men. But I quite like the knowledge of what lurks in the woods.
You are such a rebel. Not.
After reading this post the tent carpet makes even more sense.
You are such a wuss … and me? I’m the one who, in a horror movie, leaves the group and goes out to look … and NEVER comes back.
I’m with you. You should look into geocaching. It takes my family and me a little on the wild side but there’s a purpose. And my three men love it so it’s worth the struggle with my internal law abiding citizen.
There’s one of those strange huts near us in the woods. I fear they shoot deer from it :(
Suzanne…we are SO geocaching this week. Though only on approved footpaths ;-)
Laura…cool. I’ll just always be sure to hang out with you then because I will NEVER be that person who ‘just goes out to look’…
Claire, oh noes :-(
Yup – looks like a hunting hide to me. Bastards. *shakes fist*
I’m amazed that you could drag them away without exploring the bunker first! Do you think it is left over from WWII days, or more recently constructed?
I wonder how many unmarked paths these boys will pull you down?
Lovely dappled sunshine.