Thetford to Brandon

I walked to parkrun with as much hiking gear that I have that fits in my day bag; did the finish tokens while dog-sitting lovely Luna because it was too hot again for her to run.

I also advertised the free courgettes that were available by the barcode scanners. One of the regulars has a surplus of courgettes and marrows. I couldn’t advertise the marrows because the southerners probably wouldn’t understand what I was saying if I said marrow in my native accent: marra, which is also Pitmatic for ‘friend, (work)mate’, as in ‘How, marra!’

After parkrun, I walked to the train station, meeting Mr Pandammonium on the way, and got the train with him to Thetford in Norfolk.

At Thetford, we had a look round the ruins of the priory – same chalk-and-flint construction and type of monks (Cluniac) as the monastery in Castle Acre (see extra to see how thick the walls were).

When we’d seen enough, we headed off to Brandon in Suffolk along the River Little Ouse, which is a tributary of the River Great Ouse. The confluence is at Brandon Creek in Cambridgeshire – 11 miles away, as the crow flies, from Brandon.

The path started off sandy. Sandy, sandy and more sandy. It opened out into a wide swathe of sandiness near the power station, which hummed in two senses of the word.

We stopped for lunch at an apparently random spot where people gather for water activities in the river, sunbathing and games. There was an ice cream van, where we got a cold drink each and I got an ice cream.

After wondering where the missing village of Santon was, we reached the village, if you can call it that, of Santon Downham. Its one shop closed in 2019 (pre-Covid), but the Forestry Commission has its East of England office there. They look after Thetford Forest, which is in Suffolk.

There was a sign in Santon Downham explaining about the sand (see extra).

After that, we continued along the Little Ouse Path, which follows the River Little Ouse – sometimes a little too close for comfort – and limboed under tree branches and danced between nettles. There were loads of butterflies and even more black-and-blue damsel/dragonflies.

After what seemed like forever, we emerged from the nettles into the civilisation that is Brandon, where we availed ourselves of two local hostelries and their cold liquid refreshments. That first pint – lemonade, no ice – went down an absolute treat.

From Brandon, we got the train home.

We’ve got another route planned for tomorrow. You’d think someone was training for something!