BY MEANS of the time-honoured method of not actually going to bed, I was up bright and early on the last day of June and so caught the first available train back to Bristol. There I met up with ‘Alice’ and together we caught another train to Weston-Super-Mare.
Tag: flowers
LVIII – Minehead to Combwich
MY 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.
Continue reading “LVIII – Minehead to Combwich”LVII – Lynmouth to Minehead
MY TUESDAY morning began with waking bright and early and devouring an excellent full English breakfast. I then checked out of my hotel and went in search of a shop that could sell me water for my walk. It wasn’t a difficult search on account of the hotel receptionist having already told me where to look. As I ventured outside, I found myself once again stepping around the Blackbird Without Fear.
LVI – Ilfracombe to Lynmouth
ON MONDAY morning, as most of my friends were commuting to work, I was arriving in Ilfracombe by bus, having already ridden the overnight coach from London to Exeter and then the first train of the morning to Barnstaple.
XLI – Boswinger to Falmouth
PERHAPS because of my mad rush to beat the sunset on the previous day, or perhaps because a shower is just not as restorative after a day’s walking as a nice, long soak in the bath, I awoke on the Monday of my week-long Cornish adventure with my legs feeling like lead. Or possibly something heavier. I’d say perhaps uranium, but they really weren’t being that reactive.
‘This bodes well,’ I thought.
Continue reading “XLI – Boswinger to Falmouth”XXVIII – Weymouth to Burton Bradstock
SATURDAY morning saw me up with the lark, by dint of having already been up with the bat and the night owl, ready to take advantage of whatever fun, frolics and inevitable rain the late summer bank holiday weekend could throw at me.
I duly squelched aboard the last night bus, having been treated to some of that rain between my front door and the bus stop and proceeded to dry out to merely cold and damp by the time I reached London Waterloo.
Continue reading “XXVIII – Weymouth to Burton Bradstock”XXI – Southampton to Lymington
MONDAY’S walk is perhaps best characterised by ‘fun and failure’, which, if it wasn’t a phrase before, might well become my walking motto.
Failure number one was on the part of South West Trains, whose service over the bank holiday weekend was looking to be less than Sterling.
Continue reading “XXI – Southampton to Lymington”XX – Portsmouth to Southampton
THIS time last week, I thought about going for another walk but only managed to prove to myself that an alarm clock is just a device which incorporates a loud beeping sound into the malleable narrative of one’s dreams.
This week, I reverted to Plan A, which consists of three simple instructions:
Continue reading “XX – Portsmouth to Southampton”