by Jon Parker

Created on: December 15, 2006   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

A few weeks ago, I went cycling with a friend of mine down the Wealden Cuckoo Trail. Since 1990, the eleven-mile trail has been a leisure route used by walkers, cyclists and horse riders. It was not, however, originally built for this purpose.

Opened in 1880, the Cuckoo Line was the Polegate to Eridge railway, carrying milk, livestock and animal feed, as well as passengers. This explains why it is mostly off-road, which is partly why it is so popular. It was named after the tradition that the first cuckoo of spring was heard at the Heathfield Fair. (We, however, saw no cuckoos nor heard any renditions of the street-football Carling television commercial.) Although it was a busy line it eventually closed due to the cuts made by Dr Henry Beeching in 1968.

The Cuckoo Trail has always run from Heathfield to Polegate, but a new section was added for the new millennium, from Polegate to Hampden Park, in Eastbourne, forming part of National Cycle Network Route 21. We particularly wished to explore this modern extension, which we had not experienced before. I cycled from my house in Herstmonceux and my friend, Paul Farrant cycled from Heathfield. We agreed to meet north of Polegate in Hailsham at 11am.

Having planned and organised all this (a huge achievement for two otherwise impractical teenagers), I awoke on the morning of our trip full of confidence and expectation of a thoroughly enjoyable expedition. It was an early September morning and the weather forecast predicted late summer sunshine. I had packed most of my stuff the night before so I did not have to rush in the morning. Also, we knew that on a Saturday morning there would only be polite walkers and cyclists on the trail, so we would have no trouble despite meeting in Hailsham, commonly known amongst youths of the district as Pykeeville'.

However, the start of the day did not go quite according to plan. Firstly, it was precipitating felines and canines like all but someone's business. Secondly, preparing my packed lunch took three times longer than I expected it to and I was therefore late getting away. And thirdly, when I finally met Paul he told me that an old lady had already harassed him on his way down. Apparently, she had moved aside to let him cycle past. Paul was eating at the time and consequently could not pronounce his appreciation. The old lady judged him to be an ungrateful adolescent and shared her feelings with him accordingly. "Don't say thanks then, you f*cking tw*t!" she bellowed in a not-so-surreptitious

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