Last week I travelled to Kent to see a dear friend who has recently moved there. I can work/study anywhere so it was a good opportunity to shift venues for a bit. Rachel works for Tregothnan so I parked myself at her pad near Kings Hill.
On the Tuesday she suggested a walk with some horsey ladies who wanted to discuss bridleways access across Tregothnan land. Rachel was too busy to walk with us so I was happy to attend as her replacement. We met with the ladies and Rachel explained that she was leaving them in my capable hands. "So, who are you?" they naturally quizzed - presuming that Rachel had rocked up with a random friend who was just out for a stroll in the sun. "I'm a chartered surveyor like Rachel," I stated. They looked a tad impressed. "Actually I'm a land surveyor if that helps." Even more impressive looks. "OK," they said, "let's walk".
So we walked across various bridle paths. I had no idea of the nuances of bridle path, public footpath etc. It seems that horse people dislike dog owners, dog owners dislike horse riders and every one hates ramblers and the RSPB. Or that's the hierarchy I understood. We walked various paths and came across some unfriendly horse barriers.
Double stacked railway sleepers are too high for horses to easily step over. I'm not sure if they're there to discourage cyclists/motorcyclists but add on effect is that they can't be bridleways.
I suppose it depends whether you mind having an enduring right of way across your land that allows access to pedestrians, horse and cyclists.
Anyway, chartered surveying head off I spent Wednesday at Excel in London on an UAV exhibition. Very small and, to be honest, boring so I didn't spend long there. I won't drone on about it [a couple of my readers may get the joke] so I headed back to Kent via a familiar spot.
I've been in this pub many times and it's like a comfort zone when I'm having a shabby day. Worked for me.
I headed back home on Friday and lo and behold, when I arrived back in Exeter some bright spark had nicked my suitcase. So now I'm without glasses (so can't drive), chargers, mouth guard, MSc notes, clothes, gym shoes and all the other gubbins that one naturally carries around with them that isn't 'valuable' but it worth something to you because it's yours. Someone else has all my stuff and I'm schlepped. Awaiting the final guillotine from British Transport Police tomorrow (they say wait 7 days for it to turn up) then I'm onto an insurance claim.
So a very memorable week in Kent. But for all the wrong reasons.
On the Tuesday she suggested a walk with some horsey ladies who wanted to discuss bridleways access across Tregothnan land. Rachel was too busy to walk with us so I was happy to attend as her replacement. We met with the ladies and Rachel explained that she was leaving them in my capable hands. "So, who are you?" they naturally quizzed - presuming that Rachel had rocked up with a random friend who was just out for a stroll in the sun. "I'm a chartered surveyor like Rachel," I stated. They looked a tad impressed. "Actually I'm a land surveyor if that helps." Even more impressive looks. "OK," they said, "let's walk".
So we walked across various bridle paths. I had no idea of the nuances of bridle path, public footpath etc. It seems that horse people dislike dog owners, dog owners dislike horse riders and every one hates ramblers and the RSPB. Or that's the hierarchy I understood. We walked various paths and came across some unfriendly horse barriers.
Double stacked railway sleepers are too high for horses to easily step over. I'm not sure if they're there to discourage cyclists/motorcyclists but add on effect is that they can't be bridleways.
I suppose it depends whether you mind having an enduring right of way across your land that allows access to pedestrians, horse and cyclists.
Anyway, chartered surveying head off I spent Wednesday at Excel in London on an UAV exhibition. Very small and, to be honest, boring so I didn't spend long there. I won't drone on about it [a couple of my readers may get the joke] so I headed back to Kent via a familiar spot.
I've been in this pub many times and it's like a comfort zone when I'm having a shabby day. Worked for me.
I headed back home on Friday and lo and behold, when I arrived back in Exeter some bright spark had nicked my suitcase. So now I'm without glasses (so can't drive), chargers, mouth guard, MSc notes, clothes, gym shoes and all the other gubbins that one naturally carries around with them that isn't 'valuable' but it worth something to you because it's yours. Someone else has all my stuff and I'm schlepped. Awaiting the final guillotine from British Transport Police tomorrow (they say wait 7 days for it to turn up) then I'm onto an insurance claim.
So a very memorable week in Kent. But for all the wrong reasons.
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