We spent barely five minutes sitting on the bench looking down at the water meadows, stretching, drinking and eating, but we felt revived when we set off again. Along the lane, on our way to the church, we passed the old rectory that gives its name to the lane between it and the High Street. Almost every building in Twyford seems to be old and quaint with moss covered walls and this one is no exception.
Safely across the road at the Hockley Traffic lights I set off along the road towards Twyford. It’s not the nicest of roads with cars whizzing past and nothing much to see at first, just half a mile of potholed pavement, traffic and fields hidden behind scrubby trees. I could have been on the Navigation trail if I’d just turned to the west but there was method in my madness. Back in the days of Moonwalk training walks, when my one foray onto the Navigation at Mansbridge had ended after half a mile of mud and fear before I’d even got started, this had been the route I’d taken when I came to the long miles. The ten mile mark was Twford, known as one of the most beautiful villages in Hampshire and, by trial and error, I’d found a little oasis of peace and calm amid the screaming muscles and blistered feet. Continue reading Twyford, revisiting an old friend