Three Greedy Gubbins

Unusually, my brother, sister and I all happened to be in the country at the same time (my brother is the globe trotter not me) and all free for the day, so we decided to go for a stroll in the countryside.

We had agreed that it was important to get an early start, so my sister duly turned up at ten o'clock with Millie, who as usual was going beserk at the idea of a W.A.L.K.

Unfortunately Richard and I had overslept so we didn't leave the house until eleven and then Richard announced that he had some essential tasks to be done, involving photocopiers, scanners and suchlike.

Katie, Millie and I got quite thirsty hanging around so 12.30 saw us sat in the garden of the Lock Keeper pub enjoying a pint of Waggledance, whilst waiting for Richard. The pub is roughly half a mile from my house. Not the most auspicious of starts then. Richard finally joined us, and partoook of the refreshments offered by the hostelry before we finally set off along the section of the Monarchs Way which runs past the marina and out of Keynsham.


Before long we parted company with the route King Charles II allegedly took and continued alongside the Avon to Swineford. By now it was two o'clock and so we decided to stop for lunch at The Swan, accompanied by a pint of Gem (me) and Summer's Hare (Katie and Richard) from Bath Ales Brewery.
Summer wasn't "hare" though, as it soon started to rain. So we got out our macs in stoic fashion and put up the sun brolly for good measure. Brits love this sort of thing: pressing on despite the weather, triumph in the face of adversity etc. It makes us feel good. Anyway, we shrugged off the rain as a mere trifle and were enjoying ourselves so much than when Richard said: "Fancy another?" Katie and I both replied, "Ooh yes please!"

When Richard reappeared with more pints of beer we had finished our food and were feeling rather full. We both looked at the beer. "I'm not sure I want it now," I said.
"Nor me," said Katie. "And I have to drive home later. I don't want another pint, not sure why I said yes."
Richard looked at us in alarm. "I can't drink all of them!" he said.
"Well we can't leave them, " I replied, "that's nine quid's worth!"
"Yes I know," said Rich. "I paid for them!"
Katie and I sat there looking a bit sheepish, then I had an idea. "Ask them if they'll put it in a carry-out," I said.

Richard traipsed off to the bar carrying two full pints of beer. He returned ten minutes later with a plastic milk bottle.


"Well that," he said, "was embarrassing. I had to explain that you two changed your mind, I felt a right twit." The woman behind the bar had laughed but had kindly decanted the milk into a jug and had washed out the milk bottle and put the beer in it. I put it into my rucksack for later enjoyment.


We headed up the lane behind the pub and followed the track to the end where we were met by some unfriendly gates. We backtracked to the car park and found the right path off to the left and puffed and grumbled our way up the hill to Upton Cheyney.

Upton Cheyney is a quiet village. This is what Wikipedia has to say about it: Upton Cheyney is a  village in South Gloucestershire, England near to Bitton, Bristol. That's it. South Gloucestershire Council is a bit more forthcoming; from their website I learned that Upton Cheyney means "upper farmhouse" and that remains of a Roman settlement have been found in the village.

Pipley Bottom

Cottages at Kelston Mill

We passed the Upton Inn, but given the debacle down the hill at the Swan and the fact we were now lugging two pints with us, it was universally agreed that we would give this one a miss, although it did look inviting. Another time maybe. We did, however, stop for a cup of tea at Manor Farm. Although the shop was not officially open on Thursdays, the farmer told us we were welcome to  a cup of tea provided we served ourselves which didn't seem too much of a hardship.

North Stoke

Saltford Lock

From Upton we followed a path down a steep slope into Pipley Bottom, crossing a small stream before climbing out the other side (with further grumblings and mutterings), emerging in the small village of North Stoke. From here it was a straightforward walk down the steep hill where we crossed the main road and a couple of fields before emerging at Kelston Mills, next to the River Avon, but on the opposite side to Saltford. Here the furnace chimneys of the brassworks are a reminder of the industry that used to take place on the Avon. The brassmill was one of several established along the Avon by William Champion (no, not the drummer in Coldplay), this Will Champion was responsible for establishing a brass industry in Bristol and along this stretch of the River, that was one of the largest in Europe. Hard to believe now that this tranquil stretch of river was one of the early centres of the Industrial Revolution in Britain.

As we made our way along the river bank we saw Mick waving from his boat across the water.
"I'll put the kettle on!" he said.

The very tiny chair

By the time we had walked along to the Bristol Bath cycle bridge and old railway bridge which would get us across the kettle had boiled and we sat on the grass enjoying another cup of tea. I sat on the smallest seat ever, I am not of great stature but even I found that my knees were level with my chin which was a little uncomfortable. It seemed churlish to complain though, especially when Mick offered us all a lift back to Keynsham. It had started to rain again and we all quickly accepted and jumped into the van before he could change his mind.



Later on when we tucked into the pints we had brought from The Swan we agreed that despite the late start it had been a very successful outing.