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It was with excellent spirits that Tom and I travelled from Cambridgeshire
to Hampshire to return to Pyestock. Although the day had started poorly, blue patches
appeared in the sky and the grey clouds were starting to break. The forecast was excellent,
a hiatus of clear warm sunshine for the day, as opposed to the pouring rain of the rest of
the week. Even the notorious M25, the London Orbital Motorway (or biggest car-park in the
world) was unexpectedly clear and we were soon navigating the appalling road towards Fleet Pond.
Unlike our previous floundering about, false starts and finding ourselves repeatedly lost,
we simply walked directly from the car, straight through the woods, straight across the
fields and up to the fence. Our familiarity with the site continued on the other side
of the fence, calmly working our way through the woods, pausing by the perimeter road
and then swifty disappearing into the visual tangle of Pyestock itself. The only cause
for alarm was observing the new tyre tracks on the inside of the security fence, confirming
that regular patrols took place as the vehicle repeatedly churned up the sodden, muddy ground.
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