We met at Ruislip Manor Station on what turned out to be a gloriously warm Tuesday morning. Our destination was Morden, where we were starting our seven-mile ramble along the River Wandle. It was a lot farther than our usual adventures, and the train journey took just over an hour. By the time we'd changed trains twice—first at Victoria and then onto the Northern line—we'd become experts in the art of counting heads.
Travelling as a group is a bit like taking a flock of pigeons on holiday. Every time the train doors opened, someone wandered off in search of the "best carriage," someone else couldn't remember which station we were at, and the rest of us were shouting, "Is everyone here?" Herding cats would genuinely have been less stressful!
Once we reached Morden, Gaynor confidently produced a map. This was particularly exciting because she'd never actually done the walk before. What could possibly go wrong? Thankfully, despite a few moments of "I think it's this way…" we managed not to end up in Surrey.
The Wandle Trail turned out to be a real gem. We wandered through five parks and a nature reserve, proving that London isn't all concrete and traffic jams. We did a spot of wildlife watching and were rewarded with a water vole, a rather elegant heron, coots, countless ducks (who always seem to think they're in charge), and, amazingly, trout swimming in the river. We also encountered an astonishing variety of dogs—from tiny fluffy ones that looked like animated slippers to enormous beasts that probably paid council tax.
One of the parks was home to a magnificent 500-year-old plane tree. Imagine all the things it's witnessed! Henry VIII, the Great Fire of London, two world wars, and now a group of retirees discussing where the nearest toilet might be. We also spotted several unusual trees that none of us could identify. Naturally, this didn't stop us confidently making up names for them.
As if that wasn't enough, we crossed a rather unusual circular bridge, admired a beautiful ornate green bridge, and came across some old snuff grinding stones. Why they were there was anyone's guess, especially as the actual snuff mill was another ten minutes up the path. Perhaps they'd got tired of carrying them and thought, "That'll do."
The weather was hot, but luckily much of the walk was shaded, and we kept ourselves well supplied with water. By around 2 p.m., however, our thoughts had turned almost entirely to food. We arrived at the Rose and Crown looking like weary explorers who'd just crossed the Sahara. Lunch has never tasted so good, and the chairs were worth five stars on their own.
Suitably refuelled, we continued to Waddon Ponds before catching the tram back to Croydon. Unfortunately, we'd completely forgotten one important detail—it was rush hour. As retirees, we'd almost forgotten such things existed. Suddenly we found ourselves squeezed onto a packed tram, standing shoulder to shoulder with commuters who all looked as though smiling had been banned. The one advantage of getting older is that, every now and then, someone kindly offers you their seat. It's not guaranteed, of course. Sometimes they mysteriously become fascinated by their phone, the floor, or even the emergency exit instructions. Still, hope springs eternal!
All in all, it was a brilliant day out. Seven miles, plenty of laughs, wonderful scenery, fascinating wildlife, good food, and no one was permanently lost on the Underground. I'd call that a successful ramble!
