Fresh Air (with Poo in it)

Groaned out of bed with a tummy like an airship. But I was able to force down some egg and black pudding. The weatherman said it was going to be a lovely day for walking and you know what parents are like about these things so we did what we were told and I resigned myself to my bipedal fate.

I had spent an hour trying to download a game called Basement without paying the £10 but failed, this had put me in a thundery mood and being told we were going for a walk along the seafront again made it worse, so we did the Portsdown Hill circuit instead.

Portsdown Hill is a chunky chalk outcrop north of the city which plays host to 3 forts (one of which is now the cannon museum) and it also bristles with top secret radar installations which you can see and nuclear bunkers which you can't, and the old World War 2 radio station tunnel which I have investigated a few times.

But we had Jof with us this time and while advanced tunnelling was off the agenda, she was determined not to give up and we started at the stepping-stone pond right under the huge cliff. There is a safety dyke to stop dislodged boulders rolling down the hill and killing people and Jof did fall down on it but luckily her bottom broke her fall.

The hill is quite steep and we needed a rest at the top just by where a man and his dog were out for a jog. We'd already met rabbit poo and dog poo but then the horse poo started. Horses seem to be really big creatures with big bellies because it was everywhere. The fresh air was forever tinged with eau de odour and you had to watch your step when you weren't watching the epic view.

And we found Yew trees that had grown bent in the constant wind and looked like Donald Trump hairpieces.

At the other end we showed Jof the tunnels and the cliff where I first went at the age of 3 and we all felt better for the strenuous exercise. It was a good excuse to eat cake. And biscuits.