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Just over a year since the South London Battle of the Blogs leaving party back in Sunny Stockwell, I welcomed m’SW8 colleagues over to Wivenhoe for the weekend.

The plan was formally to twin Vauxhall Pier with Wivenhoe Pier (stop sniggering) and to raise a half pint of lager shandy to *ahem* co-operation.

Failing that then we could always swap tales of online hyperlocal happenings and laugh about how it took a move out to the estuary wilds to finally find the lauded vision of “free swimming for every resident.”

But for all the vast architectural expanse and shiny metal fragments holding the megastructure in place (Vauxhall, not Wivenhoe) I’m not entirely sure that Pier is actually open yet.

And so instead we did what Wivenhoe does well – which is to walk.

Fueled up by the finest Rose and Crown fish ‘n chips, we took the first sailing on the ferry across to Rowhege, and then completed the Time Out loop towards Fingringhoe.

Why we couldn’t have asked the rather charming Mr Ferryman to take us over to Fingringhoe in the first place, and then bugger off back to Wivenhoe, was never really explained.

M’South London colleagues were rather excited about boarding the ferry, even with my guarded tales of caution that the duty free may not be operating for the weekend. I had a PALM / FACE moment when one of them whipped out their Oyster card to be swiped.

We’re not from London, dontaha know!

Anyway, over to Rowhedge, a stroll up towards the wood and soon we were dodging the MOD’s snipers.

Welcome to North Essex.

You can take the boy out of South London, or even out of Wivenhoe, but he will still get lost once left to ramble around the badlands of Rowhedge. M’South London colleagues had the round walk planned to perfection. I thought that after the second left turn we would end up back along the Clap’ham Road.

Running (literally) slightly late, we missed the last ferry, the last train, and the last chance for any life to be injected back into the South London blogosphere [geddin there!]

I celebrated the kidnapping of m’South London Comrades with the finest saveloy that Mr Papa could still serve up late on a Sunday evening.

Well, not quite.

I think that the South London lot were impressed.

As for the twinning process?

Opposites attract.

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