Tuesday, 29 June 2010

Fordwich Extreme Sports

Recently walked to Fordwich to escape the inner city blare of vuvezelas and discovered in England's smallest town St Mary The Virgin's Church, which reputedly once housed St Augustine's remains, and pubs selling lemonade for £2.75 a pop. You expect a lot more 'pop' at that price. My path was beset with mosquitoes, horse flies, rabbits, nettles and foreboding signs, but I did find a lake in which to soothe my wounds.



IT DRAWS YOU IN WITH ITS HYPNOTIC CRAFTSMANSHIP SPANNING 900 YEARS







Blasphemy.








Stable table.






"Do not touch suspicious objects they may explode and kill you." That distant rabbit may be carrying a machine gun. Those mosquitoes are injecting you with truth serum.








All 351 inhabitants of Fordwich, I can successfully navigate your deadly objects whilst maintaining my grace and poise.




I'll be going back soon to test some detours and possibly some lilos for what will be my own version of Canterbury's river tours for those who've resignedly cast off their plastic England flags (some of which helpfully display the name 'England' in the centre, for those that might've been unsure) and those sufficiently whetted by Hanescu's sputum.