We seemed to reach some invisible border where the tight
fisted, the mealy mouthed and the watery smiles were replaced with full on,
good hearted, sublimely beautiful experiences that kept coming. The clues
started early – within 50 paces from our start point at the Inn on the Lake, we
got the first hoot of goodwill. In the next 60 seconds, several more followed
and not all of them came from white van man with their cheery smiles and raised
thumbs.
After about a mile, we were aware that a woman was waiting
on the pavement with that look that said ‘it’s you I’m after’. That’s how we
came to meet our first patron saint in the form of Godalming’s Jackie
Rees-Thomas. She had her mobile camera phone at the ready, so we posed for
pictures and then had a lovely chat.
She had seen us on the BBC News the night
before and generously thrust a significant contribution (of the folding kind)
in to our hand. She signed the copy of Nicholas Nickleby we are carrying and
the pages are filling up nicely with the names of all the good people with good
souls we have met along the way. Jackie, I said we’d mention you – thank you
again so much, and we hope your daughter is feeling better soon.
All of 200 yards further on, we dived in to a quaint corner
shop in Milford by the name of Tesco Express. At the till, an old boy spied us
and exclaimed ‘What the Dickens are you doing here?' It was the same story –
‘saw you on the TV news last night and love what you are doing’. We discussed
the torrential rain yesterday which had put paid to his Bowls match and as we made
ready to leave, he pulled all the change out of his pocket and donated it to
our cause. He upped Mrs. Fragrant Chelsea lady from day one on the Kings Road
by 10%
On the way out of Milford, an old chap was walking towards
us and as we drew level he looked us in the eye and said “Blimey, I thought it
was the undertakers coming to get me”. And with the joke shared, he laughed.
When I say laughed, I mean he really exploded in to the loudest, heartiest,
happiest laugh there could be. His lips pulled back to reveal a fine set of
porcelain dentures and as he drew breath to raise the second and then the third
belly laugh, the light caught them and we were bathed in an ethereal glow of
dental happiness. As we walked on, we could hear the guffaws continue and we
joined in too. It WAS a very funny joke.
And just when our giggles subsided, there on the way to
Witley Common was another person looking down the road to see where we were. He
too had seen us on the telly and the trade mark top hats were working their
treat again. “Ah, the Dickens Boys!” he said, (which made us sound a bit like a
vaudeville act) and once more, a generous donation, lots of goodwill and delightful
dollops of support were shared before he sent us on our way.
Even the way itself had taken a happy pill. Witley
Common gave us a soft and gentle carpet of pine needles to cushion our
suffering feet and I’m sure that if we looked up, the birdsong in the trees
above would be coming from a Snow White cast of chirpy cheery feathered
friends.
Our path lead towards the A3 once more. We first walked next
to it as the Portsmouth road thundered out of Roehampton, on Sunday. We saw it
again from a motorway bridge as it hurtled aggressively underneath, assaulting
the senses as we closed in on Cobham yesterday. Today, we had stopped in a
tranquil country lane and realized that for the first time on this walk, there
was no din, do hurtling cars, not even the distant all-pervading hum hissing
across the trees coming from a thousand reps with deadlines to meet.
The path worked its way steeply towards the sky and, not for
the first time in the day, I admired the receding form of my brother as he took
to the paths with a healthy, youthful ease. It was a short, very sharp work out
and when we paused, the hum of traffic was back but it took on a different
tone. Through the trees, we watch the ground swallow up the hurtling trucks,
the BMW’s and the Golfs as they pinged past us - and then vanished in to the bowels
of the earth. Or the new Hindehead tunnel, as it’s known in these parts.
Further on (or rather, further upwards), we came out on to
the old, old London to Portsmouth Road. Down below us, the more recent one
replaced by the tunnel is being turned back to nature and in just one year, I’m
delighted to report that nature is doing a grand job. Just along from us on the
old, old road sat one of the key milestones of this trip and waiting to meet us
was a reporter from the local paper. 
A large stone marks the spot of a grizzly murder that took
place in the 1700’s when three men set upon a friendly sailor who had recently
bought them drinks at the local pub. They ambushed him, took his life (along
with his money and clothes) and fled down the path we had just struggled up.
They were duly caught and hung within spitting distance of the crime there.
In Nicholas Nickleby, our hero and his friend Smike paused
at the very spot to read the story and today we did the same. As we did, a
lovely lady (because today, everyone was lovely) came by and stopped for a
chat. Gerry gave her an exclusive performance of the reading, as her dogs sat
dutifully at her feet and she promised to rush home, log on to this site and
donate. And when she had gone, a lively and noisy group of Mums and toddlers
walked by and once again, the greeting refrain was ‘Oooo – we saw you on TV
last night’ and we had another happy, smiling chat. After that, four more
people out for a stroll hove in to view and a complete stranger said ‘Goodness
me, it’s the Dickens brothers’. And then the complete stranger enthusiastically
introduced us to more complete strangers, with our story being accurately
relayed to the friends he was with.
The stone is supposed to have a curse and ghosts haunt this
magical bit of Surrey, known as the Devils Punchbowl. As we stood to leave, the
decent weather was interrupted by a sudden chill and dark clouds rolled over
the hill, turning it almost dark. Rain stung on our faces from the sudden
onslaught and I looked at my phone to check our leaving time. It was almost a
quarter past one in the afternoon, so my digital read out said 13:13. Perhaps
it was coincidence, but dear old Uncle Cedric always told me that 13 was
Charles Dickens’s lucky number. Dismiss it if you will, but I’d like to see it
as a sign that we were being watched by benign and supportive ghosts.
On towards Liss and the hooting and tooting continued. Money
was thrust out of a passing car with shouts of good luck and on Liphook’s very
smart golf course (through which our footpath was winding) two chaps about to
putt stopped to take us in. I thought
this would be the ultimate test and was half braced for a members rant at
invading their precious club in fanct dress. But no, the Barabra Cartland haze continued and
yet another two were telling us they had seen the TV news and loved what we
were doing. Even in Liss itself (where we were due to stay tonight), a lovely
chap called Dave added his support. Dave had an armful of tattoos, several
piercings and looked and sounded like he was on the wrong side of around six
pints of beer. But in to our hat went numerous coins and an earnest entreaty to
come inside his favourite watering hole to join him for a drink.
We would have loved to, but it turned out that our pub/hotel
was not in Liss at all but five miles back down the track we had just plodded
for the last two hours. So we took a taxi and will return to our stopping point
tomorrow morning as we stride out towards Rowlands Castle. But even with that
error, the magic was not over. We were shown to our rooms in the Flying Bull and
for the first time on this challenge, they were fitted with long, wide, deep,
beautiful baths.
Those baths are now filled to the steaming brim and this
blog comes to you live from my tub in which I’m wearing nothing but a smile.
It’s been that sort of day.
TO SUPPORT THE CHARLES DICKENS STATUE FUND, CLICK ON THE LINK AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE.
TO SUPPORT THE NATIONAL LITERACY TRUST, GO TO: http://www.justgiving.com/DickenswalkNote: Apologies for the delay in this post. Poor internet connection now resolved!
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