The Jinx of Lullingstone Strikes Yet Again
A lightning strike is rare. A second lightning strike in the same place is very rare. A third lightning strike in the same place is telling you something you should listen to!
The Romans abandoned their villas; the castle fell into ruins; there is something very ominous about Lullingstone. Today the fearless, if not downright foolhardy legion of the C&M, set their sights on Lullingstone Park Visitor Centre, in the shadow of the castle. They never made it. One single mercenary went ahead to scout the way and prepare a welcome for comrades, for whom the tea turned cold as the grave. A search of the river, fields and ditches around Eynsford revealed no trace, no spoke or burnt out saddlebag. Likewise a trek across the golf course. I therefore had to fear the worst - all lost. A sad and solitary return awaited me to break the news to grieving loved ones.
Imagine my joy when, as I was mournfully coasting down Jackass Lane, a lone survivor of the lost platoon came up beside my shoulder and told me they were all alive and well, diverted it would seem from their intended course. Andrew and I then shared each other's company to cross the Croydon flyover and make our light-hearted homeward ways.
Be sure, however, that I shall long hesitate before ever again venturing into the mysterious realms of Lullingstone.
Jeff
P.S. A report has since come in that the Knights Errant of the C&M did not make their lunch-time rendezvous at Stansted. It was wise not to seek them there. I suspect that they ended up in the Green Man in Hodsoll Street. In the interests of charity, however, their wages have not been docked.
The Romans abandoned their villas; the castle fell into ruins; there is something very ominous about Lullingstone. Today the fearless, if not downright foolhardy legion of the C&M, set their sights on Lullingstone Park Visitor Centre, in the shadow of the castle. They never made it. One single mercenary went ahead to scout the way and prepare a welcome for comrades, for whom the tea turned cold as the grave. A search of the river, fields and ditches around Eynsford revealed no trace, no spoke or burnt out saddlebag. Likewise a trek across the golf course. I therefore had to fear the worst - all lost. A sad and solitary return awaited me to break the news to grieving loved ones.Imagine my joy when, as I was mournfully coasting down Jackass Lane, a lone survivor of the lost platoon came up beside my shoulder and told me they were all alive and well, diverted it would seem from their intended course. Andrew and I then shared each other's company to cross the Croydon flyover and make our light-hearted homeward ways.
Be sure, however, that I shall long hesitate before ever again venturing into the mysterious realms of Lullingstone.
Jeff
P.S. A report has since come in that the Knights Errant of the C&M did not make their lunch-time rendezvous at Stansted. It was wise not to seek them there. I suspect that they ended up in the Green Man in Hodsoll Street. In the interests of charity, however, their wages have not been docked.
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