EDIT: we will be on Stroud FM (stroudfm.co.uk) at 12 tomorrow.
'Harmless' and 'friendly' are two words we've heard being used to describe our beefy buddies in the last week or so, and I would like to dispel the myth: Cows are mean, psychotic, plotting, country-side guerillas who take great pride and pleasure in watching exhausted, sun-burnt walkers panic.
Their fun begins as the intrepid adventurers approach the entrance to the field. It seems that they design field entrances to test a walker's fitness and agility, by placing a massive variety of climbing apparatus that would be more at place on an SAS assault course (in place of gates), in amongst the tallest stinging nettles on the perimeter. Their tactic is first to lure the walkers into the field, and so pretend to ignore them as they clamber over the style. Then, as they aim for the far-side gate, a Sentry Cow makes eye-contact. It's a special type of eye contact. Many of the other Privates appear to sit about uninterested in the walker's presence, but they are. Sentry Cow then makes his move, and the battle is on.
His first tactic involves a lazy climb to his feet, whilst maintaining the dreaded eye-contact, and a slow amble towards the enemy. Privates then begin to look over, and the cold sweat begins to build on the small of the walkers' backs. All the cows are now looking, and shaky murmurs of "don't worry, Liam, they won't do anything" amuse the Cow Army greatly. They all rise to their feet, and follow their Sentry. The mooy laughs are almost audible, as one or two pick up the pace and the colour fades from the walkers' faces. A couple of specially trained 'terror-inducers' then begin to run, and include a couple of their Special Moves - the Brown-Pant-Jig - whereby the Cow, who (probably) weighs a tonne, jumps (again, probably) thirty feet into the air in order to increase the panic, and messy pants.
The walkers, now at a sprint, jump at the nearest fence. Not over it, you'll notice, but at it. This pleases the Cow Army, and - assuming one of the walkers yelp or get tangled/shocked on the fence, their mission has been achieved. They celebrate by gathering around the bruised and embarrassed trekkers' escape point for a good look, making sure that - despite the fact you've got away (and avoided certain death) - you get the message that cows are in charge, and that farming them may well have been a massive mistake for mankind. Vegetarianism is the way forward, if you wish to survive the Beef Revolution of 2023. See p21 of todays's Daily Mail - 'Cows kill man, 47, in stampede horror'. Heed me.
Other than cows, we've had a brilliant week. We've reached 250 miles, and Gloucester, and I'm writing to you from Painswick. We should easily arrive in Upton in time for the Blues Festival this weekend, and welcome visitors. We've had the most amazing reception, including Ada (I've never been so full in my life), Helen in Glasto, Patrick, Cathy, and the Grimsteads in Bath (that's not a band) and now Arthur and Andi in Painswick. We're also making an appearance on Painswick Radio tomorrow at 9.30, to chat about our cause.
Retrospectively, we have so many places to thank, and will do in due course.
Thanks for keeping up to date!
Alex
P.S. We really loved your little emails of encouragement - so feel free to get in touch: walkonethousand@gmail.com
'Harmless' and 'friendly' are two words we've heard being used to describe our beefy buddies in the last week or so, and I would like to dispel the myth: Cows are mean, psychotic, plotting, country-side guerillas who take great pride and pleasure in watching exhausted, sun-burnt walkers panic.
Their fun begins as the intrepid adventurers approach the entrance to the field. It seems that they design field entrances to test a walker's fitness and agility, by placing a massive variety of climbing apparatus that would be more at place on an SAS assault course (in place of gates), in amongst the tallest stinging nettles on the perimeter. Their tactic is first to lure the walkers into the field, and so pretend to ignore them as they clamber over the style. Then, as they aim for the far-side gate, a Sentry Cow makes eye-contact. It's a special type of eye contact. Many of the other Privates appear to sit about uninterested in the walker's presence, but they are. Sentry Cow then makes his move, and the battle is on.
His first tactic involves a lazy climb to his feet, whilst maintaining the dreaded eye-contact, and a slow amble towards the enemy. Privates then begin to look over, and the cold sweat begins to build on the small of the walkers' backs. All the cows are now looking, and shaky murmurs of "don't worry, Liam, they won't do anything" amuse the Cow Army greatly. They all rise to their feet, and follow their Sentry. The mooy laughs are almost audible, as one or two pick up the pace and the colour fades from the walkers' faces. A couple of specially trained 'terror-inducers' then begin to run, and include a couple of their Special Moves - the Brown-Pant-Jig - whereby the Cow, who (probably) weighs a tonne, jumps (again, probably) thirty feet into the air in order to increase the panic, and messy pants.
The walkers, now at a sprint, jump at the nearest fence. Not over it, you'll notice, but at it. This pleases the Cow Army, and - assuming one of the walkers yelp or get tangled/shocked on the fence, their mission has been achieved. They celebrate by gathering around the bruised and embarrassed trekkers' escape point for a good look, making sure that - despite the fact you've got away (and avoided certain death) - you get the message that cows are in charge, and that farming them may well have been a massive mistake for mankind. Vegetarianism is the way forward, if you wish to survive the Beef Revolution of 2023. See p21 of todays's Daily Mail - 'Cows kill man, 47, in stampede horror'. Heed me.
Other than cows, we've had a brilliant week. We've reached 250 miles, and Gloucester, and I'm writing to you from Painswick. We should easily arrive in Upton in time for the Blues Festival this weekend, and welcome visitors. We've had the most amazing reception, including Ada (I've never been so full in my life), Helen in Glasto, Patrick, Cathy, and the Grimsteads in Bath (that's not a band) and now Arthur and Andi in Painswick. We're also making an appearance on Painswick Radio tomorrow at 9.30, to chat about our cause.
Retrospectively, we have so many places to thank, and will do in due course.
Thanks for keeping up to date!
Alex
P.S. We really loved your little emails of encouragement - so feel free to get in touch: walkonethousand@gmail.com
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