THE morning after my arrival in Lancaster, I emerged from my hotel full of enthusiasm, energy and significant quantities of breakfast. A blue sky was bedecked with fluffy white clouds and the clouds were also full of enthusiasm and energy — but probably not breakfast — judging by the speed at which they were bombing across the heavens.
Tag: promenade
CXXIII – Fleetwood to Lancaster
MY RETURN to Lancashire came interestingly close to not happening, as I slept through my alarm and missed my intended train into central London.
The next one, which I caught, gave me very little time to transfer between National Rail and Underground stations, which culminated in my racing through London Euston and leaping aboard my train to Preston with literally seconds to spare. Compared to that, the ten minute transfer window I had at Preston provided great opportunity for dawdling.
Continue reading “CXXIII – Fleetwood to Lancaster”CXXII – Lytham St Anne’s to Fleetwood
I AWOKE early in my hotel room in St Anne’s, dazzling sunlight reflecting off all the walls. The sun was up, the sky was blue and my stomach was ready for breakfast, which seemed the correct order of things. Had the sun been blue and breakfast all stomachs I think I’d have just stayed in bed. I fancied that I could smell bacon and decided that it needed to be mine.
CXVIII – Liverpool to Formby
THE morning after my arrival in Liverpool saw me return to the waterfront from where I would be heading north through what was once part of Lancashire but is now the county of Merseyside. To most people anyway, especially those born after 1974.
CXVII – Heswall to Liverpool
HAVING slept like a log in my hotel in Heswall, I awoke about as speedily as a tree grows in breadth. I was warm and comfy and had no great desire to get out of bed but I also knew that the Seacombe to Liverpool ferry stopped running shortly after four pm and thus, if I wanted to catch it, I needed to be ready to go immediately after breakfast at eight. And I knew breakfast started at eight because I’d checked.
The breakfast was a lie
Continue reading “CXVII – Heswall to Liverpool”CXIV – Rhyl to Flint
IT IS early December as I write this and winter is closing in. It is already much darker and colder than when I last walked and that was but a few weeks ago in mid-November. And autumn was already skulking home, wrapped in a coat and muttering, even then.
CXIII – Llandudno to Rhyl
AS I start to write this, the sun is blazing in a blue sky and we are experiencing an unseasonably warm beginning to November, with the promise of an exceptionally cold spell to follow. I should therefore have made the most of the good weather and gone walking but — thanks to my prioritising socialising over organising — that has failed to happen. Today’s walk-related endeavour will therefore be limited to documenting my last perambulation.
CXII – Llanfairfechan to Llandudno
I HAD a plan that, while not exactly cunning, had at least had some cunning described to it once. The plan was this: stay overnight in Llandudno, catch the train back to Llanfairfechan and then walk back to my hotel, where all the heavier things from my bag would be waiting for me. It was a good plan. I liked my plan. But it had one tiny little flaw.
It relied on trains
Continue reading “CXII – Llanfairfechan to Llandudno”CXI – Beaumaris to Llanfairfechan
WHEN I awoke in Beaumaris, I found that the glorious sunshine that had accompanied the previous two days had quite vanished; the skies were grey and clouded and the weather forecast confirmed that rain would arrive sometime around mid afternoon. This called for drastic action, if unpacking my waterproof jacket from the bottom of my bag can be called ‘drastic’, which it probably can’t.
It could rain if it liked, I was going to walk anyway.
Continue reading “CXI – Beaumaris to Llanfairfechan”CVI – Trearddur to Holyhead
MY LAST walk was about a month ago (as I write this) but that feels like forever. I tend not to go walking in August on account of the heat — well, the rain is warmer anyway — and of the near-impossibility of finding accommodation during the peak holiday season. With this in mind, I was keen to get one more walk in before I ran out of July, particularly since it would carry me to Holyhead, which was something of a personal milestone. I was joined in this endeavour by the Lemming who, as tradition demands, was wearing footwear that was less than ideal.