Day six - Ditchling Beacon to Pycombe bridge

Day six – Ditchling Beacon to Pycombe bridge 

“You're riding high in May, (almost) shot down in June” 

Stopped to take a picture of my house from the downs, before heading off for the rest of the walk. 

To my left was a farmer down in the lowlands spraying his field and to my right was a painter, up early to capture the view.  I wonder whether my home is in his artwork?  

On a little farther and I came to Burnt House Pond.  It seemed an odd name for a piece of water as fire is it's antithesis.  I wondered where this house had been and whether it ever existed.     

On the route down to Jack and Jill, the windmills, I met a horse rider on her mobile phone.  They say it's dangerous to use your phone whilst driving, but looking around I thought that the danger is you'll miss this beauty while riding!   

Weirdly, on the side of the downs, I noticed a number two, which I'm sure was never planted like that.  I've never noticed it before and I assume it is just a fluke of nature that it ended up that way.  I took a photo of it and a cross that had formed in to sky, presumably through airplane vapour trails, only to be informed by a lady that she had lost count how many times she had taken a picture of this view.  I retraced my steps, moments later to check I hadn’t gone off route, only to see her taking a picture of it again.  True to her word, she really does adore this view!  Actually, I'd love to see her album as it must show the changes through the seasons and differing lights.  Each person that passes this way gets their own very special view, no picture is identical.     

Turning left at Jack and Jill, I carried on down to the golf course.  I heeded the sign, not to step onto the golf course, but stood on the verge of the path to take photos, only to have a golf ball land at my feet.  Thankfully the golfer was a good shot else I'd have been floored.  Realising the rest of the group were probably waiting, I moved on. 

Forget raining men, at one point it felt like it was raining golf balls, with several in succession hitting the ground beside me and bouncing up like the hailstones you see in other countries on tv.  Anyway, whether by fluke or fortune, I came out with my life intact – just! 

I crossed the road and walked through the village of Pycombe, admiring, of all things, their beautifully newly painted post box. 

They had a lovely church too, however there was a white sheet laid over the graveyard, which I can only presume had advertising on the underside. 

Just another little moment of the walk which was a surprise to see, was a woman in her knickers changing her trousers, but I won't say where I saw this in case it identifies the lady!