Half way through writing this blog I realised that we didn't see much today. We "did" a lot, but not "see" a lot. As a consequence, I'm milking as much as I can get out of it.

Keith had taken the day off to join us in a trip to Highclere Castle (Downton Abbey). Apparently you have to book and the castle is closed on Fridays anyway. In fact, it is almost fully booked for weeks and weeks ahead. Methinks American tourists in their droves.

K&D had also flagged a month or more ago that they wanted to take us on a walk from Southampton to Winchester, so we made this the plan. It is 20km and estimated to take 4 hours.

While you contemplate this, I'll back-up a couple of nights. I forgot to tell of the highlight of dinner at "The Rockstone". Well, maybe three. The Hamburgers were ginormous. If you ordered the pulled-pork hamburger, it was in fact an extremely large hamburger patty topped with a mound of pulled pork and salad. And chips. Should feed a family of four.

Southampton University is conducting graduation ceremonies at the moment, so many then come to The Rockstone to celebrate. While I was inside ordering our meals, Ches swears and Drew supports her, that she saw a guy reach across to a younger woman, take her by the finger and use her finger nail to pick his nose (or maybe just scratch it). Gee, I wish I'd seen that!

Finally, just down the street from the pub there is a Sikh (Indian) temple called Gurdwara Nanakasar. A two story high old English building with three large golden onion domes plonked on top. They looked as though made out of plastic and so strange.

So, to return to our walk from Southampton to Winchester. Winchester is the ancient capital of England "The City of Kings and Priests" and we must go there one day to take in all the sights. To get there today, we will follow the "Itchen navigation heritage trail". It's a walk largely along the banks of the River Itchen.

Now just as I made the mistake yesterday of referring to a "creek" when it should have been "stream" or "brook", I have to get used to saying River Itchen not Itchen River. Anyway, for large sections it's actually a canal, hence the use of the word "navigation". It's an old canal on which 6 boats hauled up to 30 tons each of coal, stone, timber, corn etc. between the cities. Horses towed the barges, using the "tow path" beside the river, which was to be our walking track north.

We were barely into the first section of the walk when we discovered that not a lot of people actually do the walk. Overgrown, we didn't so much need a machete as secateurs, particularly for the blackberry canes draped across the path. In many sections it was very narrow and stinging nettles whipped our calves. That wasn't an issue for anyone except myself. I was the only one in shorts. After several hours my calves were permanently stinging.

Largely very pretty faming country to our right and some unusual sights to our left. Container hire storage yard and sewage treatment works. The wind was in the wrong direction. Around the treatment works there were hundreds of crows. Now the collective noun for crows is "murder", "a murder of crows". How many crows make up a murder? Surely not hundreds, so the collective noun for a number of "murders"? My suggestion was "a serial killer of crows", Drew's "a massacre of crows".

Occasionally we met up with people walking their dogs and only once passed two couples going our way. One of the women said "Can you have a half shandy ready when we get there". Her meaning became clearer when another rambler said, "there's an excellent pub at …." After around 3 hours, we stopped at The Ham Farm, a Harvester pub. The beer was icy cold. Now that was a surprise. A healthy spicy chicken wrap (and chips) and after around 30 minutes, "on the road again" …. or tow path.

The path became really narrow and our legs grew weary.On we plodded, one foot in front of the other. What did we see: quite a few swans and in fact a pair of swans with a cygnet nesting on the bank, one 30cm trout in the river/canal, 5 Blue Damselflys (bright blue dragonflies), not a lot of small birds and quite a few cows and sheep.

I had asked the question, "will we see the cathedral spire in the distance as our landmark that we are getting closer?" No answer, but eventually there was one. A sign said "3km/1.8m". Maybe as the crow flies. On our right was a massive hill with a very steep staircase, St. Catherines Hill. Immediately I said, Iron Age Fort. You can't slip an Iron Age fort by me. I asked the question, do you think that's an Iron Age fort? None of the signs said anything except that it was a nature walk. Ask Prof. Google "St. Catherines Hill"? Still a nature walk. Ask him "St. Catherines Hill Iron Age Fort"? O.K. yes, if you want to be pedantic, "The top of the hill is ringed by the ramparts of an Iron Age hill fort, which is a scheduled ancient monument".

By this stage Drew's credibility is being questioned. He says it should only be another "….." before we get into town. It takes twice that time. It's now 4.55pm and every tea house and café in town is closing. It was market day and the last of the stalls are being packed away. We found a pub just as it began to drizzle. The beer was again icy cold. A snack. Keith and I being true scots opted for the Black Pudding Scotch Egg.

400g homemade or good-quality shop-bought black pudding · 200g fatty minced pork 50g fresh white breadcrumbs 1 tbsp chopped parsley 6 medium eggs, at room temperature Sunflower oil, for deep-frying Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the coating 100g plain flour 1-2 medium eggs 200g coarse fresh white breadcrumbs

· Put the black pudding, minced pork, breadcrumbs and parsley into a large bowl and mix until evenly combined, seasoning well with salt and pepper. Divide the mixture into 12 even-sized balls.

· Bring a pan of water to the boil, add the 6 eggs and cook for 6 minutes, which should give you a soft-set yolk. Drain the eggs and run them under the cold tap until cool enough to handle. Carefully shell them.

· For the coating, set out three bowls. Put the flour into one bowl and season it with salt and pepper. Break an egg into the next and beat it lightly. Tip the coarse breadcrumbs into the third bowl.

· Take two of the black pudding balls and flatten them out to rough discs, about 6cm in diameter. Place one disc in the palm of your hand, set a boiled egg in the middle, and then top with the second disc. Mould the black pudding around the egg, sealing the joins well. Repeat with the remaining black pudding and eggs.

· Coat each Scotch egg with seasoned flour. Next, dip it in the beaten egg (lightly beat in another egg if you need to) and finally roll it in the breadcrumbs. Chill the eggs until you're ready to cook them.

· Heat a 5-7cm depth of oil in a deep pan to 175°C, or until hot enough to turn a few breadcrumbs golden in 30-40 seconds. Cook 2 or 3 eggs at a time. Lower them into the oil and fry for 6-8 minutes, turning regularly until golden and crisp. Drain on kitchen paper and leave to stand for 5-10 minutes before tucking in.

The yoke was runny …. Just fantastic.

Apart from photographing Jane Austin's last residence, the Priory and Cathedral and sundry buildings between entering town and the pub, we really didn't get to see much. Just discovered that Jane Austin died 200 years ago on the day we arrived here in Southampton.

By this stage it was approaching 6.00pm and we discussed taking the train back … or taxi. Drew says "it's only 5 minutes' walk to the station. 15 minutes or more and dripping wet, we find the station. It's a London to Weymouth service. We will only travel two stops, and at Southampton the train will split in two, those in the first five carriages will go on to Weymouth, those in the rear carriages will go on to Portsmouth. A mad shuffling of passengers trading carriages.

We alight in Southampton. Still pouring rain. Walk the 15 minutes to home? You have to be kidding. Taxi. We had walked 19kms. The equivalent of Petersham to Parramatta, most of it on narrow tracks trough brambles. Still, better than doing it on Parramatta Rd.

To finish the day, we sit and watch the last four episodes of "Emmerdale". Seriously??????? "@emmerdale not cried yet? You're always sobbing," hissed one audience member, as another pondered: "Eh? You haven't cried yet? Hun you've none stopped."

Actually, Ches didn't watch much of Emmerdale as she was in dire need of a soak in the bath. She was well soaked. I decided to also have a soak. Kept sliding down and was in danger of drowning and needed a block and tackle to get out. I'm over baths.

I've just slept 8.5 hours straight and lost 2kgs