One seldom has the chance to use the saying “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”.  It is not so many years since J. Arthur set a trail in this area, with a sidekick; Dr Death did run that trail, and decided it seems to use much of it himself today.  Why he chose an urban start escapes me, but once we were over the motorway we here offered good scenery – a sunlit canal, a golf course (there was another golf course later); doubtless the hare had RHUM in mind).

  It is true that we were then taken through a long and rather tedious stretch of built-up suburban Surrey.  Several of us had been very slow to find the flour which Atalanta had called quite quickly; Le Pro eventually came upon it, and he with J. Arthur vanished into the distance, joined eventually by Chastity Belt, valiantly checking in the wrong direction before she caught us up.  So we were a little group of three, with Petal and Hash Flash, until we came upon Blue Suit and SBJ, walking the trail back to front [Ed: guided to so by Tequil’over apparently]. They did a volte-face and accompanied us.  Another canal, more sunshine, to Pyrford Lock. Was there a check there?  [Yes! Behind a bin.]  We did not see one, but certainly no flour; eventually we made a guess and stumbled on white blobs.  Petal with Raffles had by then tired of our slow pace and run on ahead.  I am not sure how the short-cutters managed it – we had no hare to show them anything, found no indications of a short-cut, but on our way in we came upon several of them, some courteously escorted by Lonely.
Teq had arranged for us to use the car park of St Mary’s church.  The service ended as we gathered with our beer for the Circle, so the rector came across to speak to us. Unexpectedly he ended his words by giving us a formal blessing; Catholics say Amen at once, Anglicans after a respectful pause, so I suspect I was the only one to say Amen.  At my college 60 odd years ago I was known as the man who said Amen after grace at hall dinners – some of you will have heard that grace therefore, at the annual black-tie do for officials, now it seems abrogated for lack of enthusiasm.

  Everyone’s mind works differently; but it is possible to categorise.  Some people find words such as “east” or “north” really unhelpful.  Others have difficulty finding their way, with or without such words.  Maps fascinate some, puzzle others.  Puns please some, irritate others.  I knew a secretary who trained (successfully) to become a buyer; her course included algebra, but she detested using unknowns such as x and y, and solved problems using trial and error.  Here is an anecdote, which most people find merely baffling, but a few find profound.  “Let x be the number of sheep in the field.” “But sir, suppose x is not the number of sheep in the field?”  There are those who find jokes disappointing if there is no sexual content, while others are vexed if a conversation becomes serious, exploring ideas instead of anecdotes.  People understand the word “thinking” differently; I once said I thought (meaning broaching subjects never before explored) about 14 minutes a week.  A friend said confidently that he was thinking all the time; another commented crossly that she couldn’t understand us at all. It is actually quite a challenge to

add to a conversation something you have never said or even thought of before.  Try it yourselves!

  On On, FRB