LXXIII – Llanrhidian to Llanelli

Hasteful MammalHAVING had a three-month break in my coastal perambulation forced upon me by various factors including but not limited to biting financial constraints and, thanks to the wettest summer in a hundred years, much of the country being inconveniently underwater, I firmly resolved to begin walking again as soon as was feasibly possible.

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LXVIII – Merthyr Mawr to Port Talbot

Hasteful MammalI WOKE up early on Sunday morning, stretched, yawned, turned off my alarm and got out of bed, ready to do some more walking. As I stood up, I almost swore under my breath but I didn’t, mostly because that breath had just exhaled itself involuntarily. I had, it turned out, most definitely got blisters on the balls of my feet.

Clearly I wasn’t going to be walking all day. Or if I was, it was going to be with pain accompanying every single step.  And that would just be silly. Right?

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LVIII – Minehead to Combwich

Hasteful MammalMY CUNNING plan for the middle of last week was intended to involve my catching an overnight coach to Taunton and to grab a short nap in the process. It was a good plan. It was also a simple one.

And yet Von Moltke was still right.

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LIV – Westward Ho! to Barnstaple

Hasteful MammalLAST Monday, I awoke bright and early, stretched out in an enormous bed in a rather large room and, for a moment, didn’t feel like getting up at all.  But the lure of walking beckoned, so I arose and performed my ablutions before pausing to look out of the bedroom window at a view across the River Torridge.

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XLVII – St Ives to Portreath

Hasteful MammalLAST weekend, with the Met Office promising snow for much of the country, was obviously going to be dangerously unsuitable for walking further along the coast.

Or was it?

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XL – Par to Boswinger

Hasteful MammalON THE Sunday, after rising early and obtaining a hearty breakfast from Cap’n Jaspers on Plymouth Barbican, I caught a train back to Par and began my next walk. In the rain.

‘It’s the West Country,’ I told myself, ‘it always rains.’

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XXIV – Swanage to Kimmeridge Bay

Hasteful MammalMY LEGS hurt. Actually, I think even the hurt hurts. But on balance, I’m feeling pretty good about it.

It’s been a while since my last walk on account of a number of factors including, but not limited to, being a bit busy, my finances dwindling and not wanting to climb hills in the heat of the summer.

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XVI – Bognor Regis to West Wittering

Hasteful MammalIF LAST week’s walk was brought to you by the words ‘flat’ and ‘dull’ then yesterday’s walk was sponsored by the noises ‘brrr’ and ‘thud-clang!’ The latter is of course the sound of a metal alloy simian undergoing meteorological castration. The Met Office had promised, more or less, that the day would be bright and sunny but only sunny enough that the ‘brisk’ wind (their adjective) would elicit surprise as one’s sunglasses froze to one’s face.

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IX – Sandling to Dungeness

Hasteful MammalBETWEEN one thing and the other (one being some writing and the other being a vomiting bug of the most spectacular awfulness), it’s been about a fortnight since I last went traipsing round the coast. This is, of course, a scurrilous state of affairs.

I rectified it by the simple expedient of getting up at some unfeasible hour before dawn and jumping on a train back to Sandling, in the parish of Saltwood, where my last perambulatory episode finished up.

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