While some of the gang camped-out in Shropshire, a few of us met up with the Lincolnshire Walking Group on a Roman Road (Ermine Street, to be precise). Ancaster surprised us with a triple goddess on the church wall, a slither-past from a grass-snake, a buzzing from a buzzard and some fine gently-rolling countryside. The lower population density of Lincolnshire meant that the half-way pub hadn’t been built yet, but we were distracted from our thirsts by the Red Arrows (pointing the wrong way in formation), and a brief display from a rather enthusiastic Spitfire pilot. At the end-of-walk pub, while enjoying some chips kindly laid-on by the bar staff, a loud drone rising to a roar heralded the final treat – a Lancaster over Ancaster (it even rhymes). Great things come from collaboration!
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