You wouldn’t believe Eynsford was so close to London once you got there. I’d arranged to meet up with Neil and walk an eight-mile circuit from there to Shoreham and back, which easily lived up to the promises of spectacular views across unspoiled Kentish valleys.

Despite the fact the whole loop was contained within the space between the eastern ridge of the M25, a major A-road and a railway line, was just outside Dartford and under a flight-path, the heavy still air kept every sound at bay, leaving the lanes and woods through which we were walking silent but for the songs of surprisingly few birds and the chirping of sex-mad crickets.

It’s easy to see at this time of year why they call Kent the garden of England. The fields were being harvested and the hedgerows were heavy with fruit. Pears, apples and grapes hung over walls, hops were strung up on huge crucifix-like frames and brambles grew wild in the scrub at the edges of the fields.

Two great fields of lavender attracted bees from miles around and would have made beautiful sweet, delicately-flavoured honey that we could have bought had the Hop Shop not been closed by the time we got there.

Perhaps most surprising were the artichokes growing along the edge of a vast field of maise. I’d not seen them outside of a supermarket before, and was surprised how colourful they are in their natural state.

They are also incredibly strong. The heads are heavy, and so by necessity the woody stems are almost impossible to snap. They have a solid core, around which is wrapped a fibrous coat like the wires inside a TV aerial lead. The leaves at the top are hard and spiky and could do you some damage if you fell onto them or picked them up without care, and the whole thing is so hard and uninviting it’s amazing anyone ever thought to try eating them in the first place.

We found a strange concrete sign in one of the hedgerows. Not entirely unlike a water meter marker, it seemed to be indicating petrol. 95.4p sounds about the right price for a litre of fuel, but I can’t understand why it was there when we were miles from the nearest petrol station. You’d hardly be lifting up a cover in the road to fill up in an emergency.

Curiosities aside, though, it was the perfect way to spend a glorious, sunny day. We stopped to take so many photos that it took us much longer than the projected four hours to complete the loop, and once back in Eynsford were in no particular hurry to get home. We sat in a couple of the local pubs having a drink, and then took off our shoes and socks to paddle in the river we had been following all the way through the second half of the loop. It was cold, but refreshing and spot-on for our walk-weary feet.

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