Yesterday was a busy day in England so we decided to head away from the pomp and circumstance and wander out for a walk, not far just a couple of miles, if that. We were heading for St John, a small village with a lovely pub and yesterday, to mark that someone was getting married they were having a beer festival. We had hoped to cut across the fields but every neighbour we spoke to remembered a route but couldn’t describe it to us, lots of ‘I think you go alongside…’ or ‘you may have to battle with hedges at this point’ so we decided to stick to the back lanes. It seemed right to walk if there were beers to be tasted and it only took us half an hour even with stops at the entrance to fields trying to work out for ourselves how we could cut across. One stop was in a shady part of the road and we peered through the trees to the village beyond, it looked pretty sleepy.
We arrived just after lunchtime and as the festival was going on all day people were pacing themselves, as well as the beers on tap in the pub [guest beers change on a weekly basis] there was a large marquee in the garden with another 6 guest beers to be had. The village hall had the bunting up and tables laid out with a screen relaying wedding reports and football matches to the people eating their cream teas. Two hours later we set off back through the village and just as we were reaching the point where we were going to head off road to see where a footpath would lead us, our neighbour appeared alongside us in their car and we were taxied home.