Saturday, July 10, 2010

334.8 kms: Ellesmere-Penley-Worthenbury-Shochlach-Castletown-Farndon-a field near Churton

This is the stuff of crying, in the face of something good to say that is. I am re-writing this because my Blogsy app is wacky. I'm not a fan of re-writing. Not when I can't recall what I wrote last time. What I wrote last time has disappeared into the internet somewhere. The annoying thing, like it is in your brain, is that it is probably still in there somewhere—I just don't know how to access it. Suffice it to say, what follows is a shadow of what was there before. I have slightly lost the passion behind this day. The landlord was a lot nicer this morning. Possibly I just thought he was because I had been able to sleep in due to a later breakfast time. I headed out of town via a quick look at the mere. I passed a couple on the way out of town and then I passed what I think was their twenty pound note. The gap between the one and the other was larger than I thought I would be able to make up if I turned around and so I took it to mean that providence believed the value of a sheep is twenty pounds. I was determined to use that twenty poounds, but providence had gone somewhere else for the day. The PH   (that's the little symbol I look for on my Ordnance maps to denote the Public House (pub). It is usually the only place to get food and drinks; there is sometimes a P, which is semi okay too because it means the Post Office, which usuallly has food and drink to by of the d.i.y. variety), so  again, the PH, in Penley was being demolished, the PH in Worthenbury had closed down and the one in Shochlach closed up for a private function about ten minutes before I got there (that was the worst—I could see people eating and drinking from the cold, rainy outside). I'd decided to stay the night in Farndon. You  guessed it: booked out.  Everything in town: booked out. I threw my usual caution about letting people see me walking of out of town with a great big pack on my back at bed time to the wind and spent some of my twenty on dinner. It wasn't fabulous.  And then I walked out of town with a large back pack at bed time. It took me a while but I found a flat sandy patch in the middle of a field of yellow flowered bean-like-object producing plants. It was a warm, rainy night and so I had to close up the bivvy bag. The mossies were so loud I could hear them from inside. And they would manage to get into the tiny hole in the top of the bag and into my skin. I am annoyingly bitten but mossies, let me just tell you, you are nothing, inconsequential! Next to these damn horsefly bites that is. I have one in the  palm of my hand. You could quite easily go mad from horseflies. I am really glad I am not a horse. Good night to a field near Churton, good night to you.      

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