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Grey

No one bats an eyelid, raises an eyebrow, or tuts when a suggestion is made to drop down from the Downs to find coffee and some tarmac, maybe even the coastal suburbs to home. A quiet consensus. The weather hasn’t entirely matched the forecast, overcast has rather been cold driving drizzle. We’ve slipped and sludged through thick sucking mud and inches deep puddles. Everything but the topography has been flattened by grey. Twenty five miles has taken more time and energy than anticipated. Water and grit has worked it’s way through clothes and into shoes. As we summit Bignor Hill the Arun flood meadows are a series of interlocking lakes. At least we can see that far from here, at Harting Down low cloud obscured and muted the views. We reach the A29 crossing and turn onto the road towards Arundel.

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