Cock Marling

I believe i’ve run through the village with the coolest name ever.

Cock.

Marling.

Who, how, when, why and how anyone bastardised something enough to conjure that one up, I know not. But I like it.

My lower legs had been horrible all yesterday evening and during the drive to work; I was kneading them during the straight bits on the A259, gave them a bit more grief while doing paperwork, then eased them into the working day by measuring the perimeter of the site for fencing. 2100m. Yep, well over a mile. I then proceeded to go 700m around a load of shrubs, 1300m to the newt compound and back and 400 to see the fencing gang. About 2.5 miles in three quarters of an hour – all of it in rutted clay, on hills, in boots. And my legs felt a bit better.

So I massaged them more and decided a run was definitely on.

All helped by the great weather.

But I didn’t feel up to a big run so thought i’d go for about 3 miles. Leaving the site in a westerly direction, I exited Rye, went through the Parish of Udimore (finding 20p in the gutter as I ran out of pavement), marvelled at the view over the reclaimed marsh to the sea, enjoyed the sight of many lambs, oast houses, cottages and woods and then found the village I love.

Cock Marling.

It needs a Google map search to find but the image clearly shows the proud sign of the Plough pub stating it’s location clearly. Great. And during this, I forgot my pains and ran on to just over 2 miles before turning.

The view on the return was marred by a few idiot drivers making me lose enjoyment (buzzing me at speed, silly close, when there was nothing in the opposite direction to make them drive in the gutter. Idiots is, I feel, the right term) but I brightened to see the Brookland wind farm in the distance, a decent castle type building on the marsh (don’t know what it is yet; will investigate) and a stop at site after an improved 8 minute mile average. But with two throbbing shins and a pile of massage to sort them out.

But they’re sortable. And i’ve discovered Cock Marling.

Marvellous.

Advertisements

One response to “Cock Marling

  1. Haha… Cock Marling. Brilliant!
    On one of my regular local runs, I run past Cockbush Avenue…

    Childish, us? Never!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s