a Zycling Adventure to my ex’s house warming 

Well considering it’s my first real camping cycling ride for two years , things are going quite well . The bus to Pulborough arrived early so I had plenty of time to load up my six pieces of luggage plus the sturdy Bronky that’s my new name for the Brompton. To remind me of that unusual donkey at the rescue farm in Chithurst.

On the train to London I’m struggling between a great discussion about the Church , St Peters in Brighton , on my Facebook page and whether I should continue to blog after a rather rude reply from my last surviving cousin on my mother’s side who referred to my writing as diatribe. 

He also accuses me of being antisemetic because I helped The Palestine farmer pick their olives.oh veh ! 

After a difficult ride from Ipswich station with the heat , weight and lack of muscle strength I made it to the YHA near the Maltings Coming off the busy road (my new fluorescent jacket with warning  Please give 1 1/2meters is working well , )

I took the quiet lane to the hostel. The contrast with the traffic noise was so calming , that it was almost worth the earlier shindig.

The funny thing was that I had anticipated the next revelation, they had no booking of me ! Couldn’t find the relevant information in my history . To cut a long story , I got out my pup tent ., went into the kitchen of this superbly kitted out hostel. Had some of my over heated kippers and rice with vegetables from the soup container that split.

I joined a chap and his two very bright boys outside in the cool of the evening

And we eat and chatted about our lives.

After a shower I tried to settle in my tiny Marachel single skin , getting up to ease leg cramp, and the call of nature

I finally gave up and retired to the lounge where Mario from Guatemala was killing time in front of a TV . We shared our lives until dawn . This handsome man was staying with his English wife and two daughters . While I was having the tasty hostel breakfast his wife joined him looking very unhappy 

After a lovely ride to the Maltings about 3 miles away I started a queue for the 10 available £7. 50 tickets for tonight’s performance by Leslie Garret , I notice the bbc recording van had arrived.

Had a lovely time selecting a present for the house warming, buying cycle maps. For the ride to Bungay tomorrow. And then I felt weary, so cycled back to quiet hostel to rest

Well, being rested helped me stay awake for the concert which another couple staying at the hostel insisted on driving me to . It was made more memorable by the 20 year old French girl who played the trumpet, sang and whistled.

It’s time to move on and by the time I had breakfast and bid farewell to all my new friends the sun had come out and my new cycling map reassured me about the cycle signage . You won’t believe it but I came across the Ford Zodiac that we parked by at the concert, and when I asked the lady owner what she thought of the music she did a doubly take.i had to calm her down as she had a kennel of exciting dogs.

It wasn’t long before I came by Richard and his dog avec poop bags , so shaking hands wasn’t on the cards, but as he still had a trace of an American accent we chatted. In fact i can still hear him and his wife from the pub just across the road.

Just rode into Emmett’s , great British Ham and Bacon since 1820, and invested in some black streaky, a favourite with the Queen Mother so now we know what finally got to her, maybe it wasn’t the gin ,that will be for my ex’s husband, maybe it’ll work the same magic that affected the Royal Mum . And for Claire some cheese from the Isle of Mull , with a mysterious relationship with cow dung. It’s all Health and Safety approved. 

So loaded up with these tasty gifts I struggle on through quiet lanes ,meeting up with thoughtful drivers until I spotted a perfect camp site near the Rumburgh church. Though I was only 8 miles from Bungay it felt prudent to stick with the arrangements .

I slept until 2am then killed time reading and writing this blog listening to a love sick owl calling out hopefully . The ink black sky only offered a cold night but I was cosy and peaceful .

Rumburgh Church


Is a lovingly kept and I had a nice walking mediation .Its such a joy to come across an open one . There was also a commemoration to Sargent Charles Peck of 446 bomb group USAAF from those days when our countries survival was helped by the US of which I once was a citizen


Had a remarkably sound sleep even if it was short about 4 hours. So I got packed up in the dark, and carried on towards Bungay as dawn was breaking,  

But this time I’ll leave it to someone else to do the clearing up.

Arriving in town as the papers were being delivered , and helped the 84 year old “boy”get into the shop using my torch. A trick that I picked up in the US.

Apparently the real boys don’t do morning rounds anymore. Too busy with, ……….no I better not go there.

But they did direct me to my ex’s.As there was no sign of life , it was only 6am and crazy Buddhist with an early habit are thin on the ground in Suffolk .

But the locality was amazing , so many historical buildings and some with plaque , and they didn’t get that from poor dental hygiene .

I finally woke the dog which almost alerted the fire brigade, I was finally let in if only to placate the neighbours.

But seriously I was treated , if not like a long lost sock, no that should read son, and soon had a slightly tepid cup of tea in my hand, and was directed to a very nice shack in the garden offering 24 hour access and all the insects that shacks are famous for. But the real crisis that I had created, was that I shouldn’t Have been there on the first place . I had only been invited for Saturday night oh veh, oh veh! 

Well we sorted that out and Andy ,my substitute , even offered to escort me to the nearest station Sunday morning to catch there dinky train to connect to my main line one back to Crazy London , where I can be watched more closely .

I’m at the library doing some research on one of my favourite war films .

12oclock High . Much of this fictional story was filmed in the US and Oxfordshire. But I’m about to visit what’s left of 446 bomb group. The museum that’s not far from the old field is closed Fridays , but as I’m here to capture the scene below it wont really matter if it’s not cool to leave the party. The following clips are both worth watching, but I’m not so sure of the reproduction stuff.

When I did the Amtrak ride around America I visited the USAAF museum on the 8th airforce which was assigned to the UK. For movie buffs this is the classic role for Gregory Peck another great film that’s on utube is Gentleman’s Agreement, here’s a clip , the full feature isn’t there.its about anti-semitism a theme that I explore on Zycling . That’s the first one , the second is the 12oclock airfield sequence .


Gentleman’s Agreement


I was watching my feelings as I was talking to Claire this morning , and I was strangely disappointed that she has totally ignored my Web site , even after the accident when she showed concern for me. 

I’m totally reluctant to approach the big subject , because in many ways I’ve put it all behind me . But the memory is always there and from a counselling perspective full of potential meaning or is it ? One of the advantages of knowing that she won’t be reading any of this is the relief that i might say something to upset her or bring back memories that for her aren’t welcome. Not that I’d ever write about personal content that I have with people , only how I process the stuff. 

So it’s time to leave the wonderful library where I’ve spent nearly three hours and go back to a past , that in many ways are still haunting some people , including myself.

Well we all know what they say about the best laid plans. I made a “mistake “

And passed the lane to the old airfield of the 446, but I did meet a farmer who used to unearth WW 2 parts when a boy with a metal detector. Apparently when the war ended the Americans dug an enormous trench , and buried all their equipment as they weren’t going home with them . The excuse was it could damage the local economy. But the farmer had other ideas as the locals ripped off the Yanks at every opportunity. Eg steal their push bikes and sell them back to them.

As far as the mistake went, I met Tracy , a Essex girl at the raw milk stand and helped her out with buying some butter. We got into a great chat and I was invited to her home and met another Tony from Essex. So spent the rest of the day chatting away till the chickens came home as she keeps them free ranging . I’m tapping this back at Claire and Andy’s who have had an early night .

Run out of sleeping pills, but I had about four hours and I’m not yawning.

It’s 530am and I’ve been up since 4 when I strolled around Bungay thinking about how I feel about Suffolk . Right from the moment that I got off the train at Ipswich and tried to find out about busses going towards Snape I received blank stares when I enquired around the buss station ( the enquiry office was closed.) I checked this out with Tony Essex who confirmed that the local culture was very indifferent to outsiders, almost medieval.

As I wandered around this morning watching the lightening sky I sang the Moody Blues number ‘ Dawn is a Feeling ‘


When I first arrived in Bungay I helped those “ paper boys” on my return leg this morning I helped him again with my torch to open the lock . The same lack of awareness as to my presence. I’m beginning to understand why this behaviour doesn’t seem to bother Claire and Andy. Not that I would talk to them about it , going by the way I’ve been treated I don’t think they would see anything unusual, as if I’ve got it right this is the norm . I’m still very tentative.

It’s nearly 6am and last night Andy said that they get up at seven , so as I wasn’t invited inside except to toilet ,and I haven’t been offered the WI FI code so I’ll settle into a meditation or maybe walk around the local riverside park .

After another walk in the park this time with their very bright dog.

Right now I’m sipping tea in the NAFFI wondering whether it was really me that was out of step, than the Suffolk culture, which shares a similar culture that I enjoyed during National Service in the army , namely punishing. We were chatting about places we had traveled and one of the ladies asked me my favourite one. Before all this I had saved the tea back for a second cup as I alway do. So as I was saying that it all depended on the people you experience, she got hold of the spent tea bag bowl and put them in the trash. I was watching her face which was unsmiling and hard.

All this happened at the very impressive AirForce museum just outside Bungay.

And this strange behaviour wasn’t just in the canteen but everyone seemed affected by the inability to relax and listen to anything that lasted longer than ten seconds , and these weren’t kids.

So it is obviously me who is at the source of this , it’s just that I’m too challenging for the average person .

So have been put off reproducing the scene at the opening of 12oclock high

Apparently you need permission of the farmer to enter the field . Perhaps this rather disappointing experience has cured me of my WW two fixation .

By the way the 446 flew Consolidated  b 24 Liberators

And finally a story that I heard a grandad tell his rather board granddaughter.

A relative of his left Enfield in east London to escape the blitz and bought a small holding in Southend , but it was on the route of Luftwaffe bombers on the way to raiding London , they were often being chased by RAF fighters and one Heinkel got rid of their bombs which landed in the field of one of his pigs , so they had to live off pork for the next months.

Well let’s assume that all goes well tomorrow going home PLG Tony 

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