Walk a mile in my shoes...

Walking can be a frustrating hobby, but then there are cloud/silver lining moments that make it all worth while...

The Best Laid Plans of the Weekenders today led to us to Beckington, a pretty stone village just to the north of Frome. A copy of 'Where Somerset Meets Wiltshire' in hand, our guide (usually reliable and informative) sent us across a stile that was no more, into a strip of field (barely trodden) to a barbed wire fence lacking in any exit. The cricketers on the adjoining pitch looked on nonplussed, as if they'd seen it all before.

Iford Eyeful

We've hit too many rambling dead ends in our time to do anything other than abandon a false lead, so a quick peruse sent us to another of WSMW's suggestions. And what a joy... Avoncliff is one of those places where the Kennet & Avon Canal crosses the River Avon by aqueduct. The railway line is squeezed into the only other bit of land that isn't either river-wide or gorge-steep. The walk was varied and delightful. Reminiscent of the Wye Valley in parts, and still filled with the scent (of the now past-its-best) wild garlic, it follows the Avon and then the Frome via Freshford and Harold Peto's Iford Manor, before a steep climb up to Westwood and a final descent back to Avoncliff.

Arriving at Iford just too late for a cup of their famous tea, we nonetheless had a chat with the housekeeper who was about to lock up. She gave us a brief history of the place and revealed herself to be an example of history's cyclical nature - she had ended up on the same estate as her one-time mill-worker antecedents.

Westwood is hosting a Scarecrow Festival. Slightly naff? You might think so, but the topical theme of Kings & Queens had inspired the locals to come up with some wonderfully witty creations such as King Kong and Burger King (!), as well as the somewhat more inevitable fairy tales. Clever, the good folk of Westwood.

Westwood Royalty

This unexpected excursion was rounded off with a large glass of house white and a half of Box Steam's Funnel Blower at the Cross Guns' beer garden, right on the riverside. We watched the trout, almost suspended in the shallows, while musing on serendipity. It all worked all right in the end.

www.ifordmanor.co.uk
www.crossguns.net