I'd heard the rumour days back. Some punk called Bert was blowing into town. Then came the tip off from a couple of dames - he'd shut down the Park. I was already mad and now I was madder. I stared long and hard into the bottom of my whiskey glass, and I put out the call. Someone had to draw the line, and this time it was down to me.
Six of the best showed up at Local Hero next day, good guys one and all, I knew they'd have my back. One remained on watch and the rest of us headed South, to look him straight in the eye and run him outta town. Through them fancy neighbourhoods Esher and Oxshott, he tried throwing us off balance with some left and right hooks but no cigar, we got to Stoke D'Abernon Squires unscathed. One of the gang went on alone while the rest of us holed up for a time. Food came slowly, I could'a robbed a Bank quicker, but it was decent provisions and I had other things on my mind.
We hit the road again, this time it was into Leatherhead and Lower Ashtead, then skirted the Common and made for The Old Moat. We had him then, just one more roll of the dice. Two left for home and the remaining three settled in for a time, chewing the fat. We own this town, and that's just how it's gonna stay.
My thanks to The Gang for their company, photo credit to Dave and thanks to Alan for back-marking all day. About 10 miles to lunch and 8 miles to tea in strong gusts of wind - well done all!
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| L-R: Robert, Simon, Graham, Alan, Diane |
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| L-R: All of Santa's Reindeer, Robert, Martina, Simon, Alan, David |
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| Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter |
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