When attempting to write an article on Chelmsford U3A, the problem is, where to start. We should consider ourselves very fortunate to have such a thriving and interesting organisation. With 43 groups in all, it must be remembered that, due to the unstinting effort and time given to them by their convenors, we are truly well served. We have an amazing diversity of subjects, ranging from Philosophy to Walking, Science to Bowling, and Literature to Luncheon Clubs. (The last of which boasts no less than three, and this without taking into account the Curry Club.)

The U3A was set up as a learning and educational group for older people, mostly retired, with time on their hands and who wanted to learn from each other. This still plays a major part, but, as with all things, it has also evolved, and many members now enjoy its social side. Meeting new people, making new friends, and meeting them socially, is no bad thing. This has happened as a natural progression, and, importantly, because of the wish of the members. It in no way detracts from the U3A philosophy, and, indeed, it is surprising what you can learn in discussion with other people.

As I obviously cannot write about all the groups, it obviously made sense to write about one I take part in. I have therefore chosen the Walking Group, as this is something my wife, Mary, and I enjoy, and something about which there are stories to tell. The fact that we meet at, and return to, a pub, has no bearing on it!

Let me say that I have nothing but admiration for the leaders of these walks. They give up a great deal of their time researching the walks, and then walking them first to make sure the routes are still accessible. I don’t think I could take on that responsibility, and I much admire the people who do. As someone who gets lost in his own back garden, the thought of leading a large party of trusting souls into some unknown wilderness, frankly, terrifies me. Although on the very rare occasions when we have been slightly off route, we have still had a great time.

On one walk we started out near Stansted Airport. The weather was foul. The rain torrential. The only light in the gloom was the procession of planes with their landing lights on, all seemingly much to close together, as they queued to land at Stansted. It was a particular field that threw us. After all, one field is much like another in the rain. The Grand Old Duke of York sprang to mind, as we all marched up to the top of the field, and all marched down again. Then, apparently thinking we were right after all, we all marched up to the top of the field, and, you’ve guessed it, we all marched down again. We were all soaked. At this point I suggested going back to the Pub. This was unanimously carried. Unfortunately the pub was a disaster. We usually order before we start our walk, at 10.00am. On this occasion we were told that it wasn’t necessary. After we had all waited two hours, cold, wet, and hungry, I was finally told that the fish and chips I had ordered was ‘off’. This was an exception, as most of the pubs we visit have been very good.

One slightly different walk, and a very pleasant one, was from Burnham to Althorne along the sea wall. The return was by train from Althorne station. Now Althorne station has very few customers during the day. There is no ticket office and you buy your ticket on the train. I have never seen a ticket collector look so aghast, being confronted with 24 people he never expected. When the train got back to Maldon, only one stop, there was some delay as he was still churning tickets out of his machine. A machine that may have been all right for the odd ticket, but was certainly not up to producing 24 in one go.

Obviously everyone walks at their own pace, so when you have 20 plus people on a walk you can get rather strung out over the horizon. Now we do try to go home with the same number we started off with. We don’t like losing people. (Well, their relatives tend to get upset, and frankly it’s a bit of a hassle.) However, there was one occasion when we stopped for a breather, and found three ladies missing. Our fearless leader decided to go back and look for them, while the rest of us carried on under a new leader. It was a very hot and very humid day. By the time we arrived at our pub we were all dripping, exhausted, and thirsty. Imagine our surprise when, on entering the bar, the first people we see, looking very cool and sipping gin and tonics, are our lost ladies. Apparently they had thumbed a lift. By the time our leader who had gone back to find them arrived, very hot indeed, we had finished lunch. As I’ve already said, I wouldn’t be a leader. I haven’t the patience.

Incidentally, this was the day I forgot, honest, to pay my lunch bill. This was something else our leader took care of for me.

We sometimes have a little danger in our walks. Notwithstanding fields full of bulls or horses, try crossing the railway line between Shenfield and Ingatestone. Oh, this was an authorised crossing, with the wooden boards between the lines, but you literally step across the rails. On this straight stretch of line the trains are thundering down at 90 miles an hour. You look up, no train in sight. You go to put one foot out, and leap back as a train appears from nowhere going like a bat out of hell. They say that walking keeps you on your toes.

You want water? We’ve had water. One walk involved a flooded field and a stream. Having been warned to wear wellies, as the water was over the top of walking boots, only a hardy 7 people turned up. As I had done the recce with the Leader, I had chickened out. On the actual day of the walk the course was even worse than on the recce, due to further rain. The intrepid band set out, and found that the only way around the flooded field was to cross the stream, swollen with rain. They had the idea of rolling a large log into the stream to facilitate their crossing, but this shot off down the stream never to be seen again. Someone managed to cross the stream, and with the aid of a rope the Leader had thoughtfully provided, everyone got across.

Waders would have been more appropriate than wellies, as these filled up with water, so the intrepid band had a soggy lunch. One member said afterwards it was ‘Extreme sport for the elderly’.

On another occasion when we were unsure of our position, we knocked at the door of a remote house, and the man there very kindly walked some 2 miles back with us to put us on the right path. Although, on a similar occasion, when we knocked on the door of another remote house and ask the man if he could show us his house on our map, he didn’t know. I can’t understand how he ever found his way home. Maybe he never went out.

These few stories have been gleaned from several years of walking, so let me assure any budding walkers most walks are uneventful. They do serve to show one some of the beautiful countryside there is in Essex. We’ve also seen various birds, deer, rabbits, plus a variety of wild flowers. It gives you a healthy outing, and finishes with a pub lunch. What more can anyone want? I can thoroughly recommend it.