Six of us walked from Goring and Streatley a couple of miles along the Thames then up through wooded hills with cowslips, primroses, violets and a few scraggy bluebells. Also pheasants and a baby rabbit. There were lots of new born lambs and also a yard covered with straw bales which Annie thought might have been a birthing place for the ewes. It was very quiet because this is strictly preserved pheasant shoot land. The paths had been tarmacked, presumably to make it easy for posh cars to get along, so it was not quite such soft walking as we would have liked.
We then turned back towards Streatley on the Oxfordshire section of the Ridgeway which at this point was not very high but pleasant all the same. When it too turned to tarmac, because of one or two sore knees and evening deadlines, we copped out and took a local cab driven by a charming 85-year-old who had been a boy drummer in World War 2. We waited for the train in a pub with a less than charming landlord. Talk was good all the way.