CXXVIII – Barrow-in-Furness to Foxfield

Hasteful MammalHAVING ‘enjoyed’ torrential rain on my previous walk, I waited until the weather seemed slightly more promising before returning to Cumbria.  The forecast in mid-June was for sunshine one day and probable rain the next.  Slathered in sunscreen but half-expecting a downpour, I found Barrow-in-Furness basking beneath blue skies and looking somewhat better in the sunshine.  Not by much, admittedly, but better nonetheless.

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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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L – Padstow to Trebarwith Strand

Hasteful MammalLAST Monday was my fiftieth walk along the coast.

This noteworthy adventure began on an overnight coach to Plymouth. Having arrived in my favourite city, I immediately left it on the first train out, which conveyed me to Bodmin Parkway, a station which is essentially in the middle of nowhere. 

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XLI – Boswinger to Falmouth

Hasteful MammalPERHAPS 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.

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XX – Portsmouth to Southampton

Hasteful MammalTHIS 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:

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XIX – Emsworth to Portsmouth

Hasteful MammalYESTERDAY saw what I now consider a ‘short’ walk even though not that long ago I would have considered it a sizeable distance, i.e. twelve miles. The length of the walk was determined by a moment of unexpected synchronicity – it just so happened that I would reach a handy station (Portsmouth Harbour) twelve miles on from Emsworth and that twelve miles from Emsworth would, quite coincidentally, also be my three hundredth mile.

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