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BB2635 : Ode to a Lost Rucksack
Wednesday
14th October 2026
Seven
miles we tramped through a sky painted grey,
With nine hundred and eighty-four feet
in the way. There was Stan, there was
Robert, there’s Robin and Holly, And
me, Mike, recording it all rather jolly.
The
weather was gloomy, the clouds looking mean,
But thankfully nothing came down to
turn green. And Robin, bless him, in
his Jaguar grand, Drove us there and
back — the best chap in the land!
Then
lo! By the roadside, a rucksack appeared,
Abandoned, forgotten, its owner long
cleared. Somewhere in Manchester, I’d
wager a bet, There’s someone still wondering,
“Where did I get?”
We
carried on walking, through bramble and
tree, Till Far Sawrey churchyard provided
our tea. A strawberry tree there stood
proudly in view, While we ate a picnic
fit for a crew.
Seven
miles completed, our legs rather sore, We
climbed into Robin’s fine Jaguar once more.
A grey day, no rain, and a picnic to
treasure — That’s Boot Boys walking:
hard work and great pleasure!
Mike
B, Wednesday 14th August 2026

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