346.6 kms: Churton-Aldford-Eccleston-Heronbridge-Chester.

Not a great night of sleep: weird dreams about teleportation, time travel and the inadequecies of apricot coloured, eighties two-piece suits in the fifties era. I clock-watched. 3.19, 4.35, 5.46, 6.15, 6.39, 7.03, 7.14. I decided to get up at the last time-check and so managed to get a solid forty-six minutes more. I just made the post-office in Aldford, bought breakfast and ate it in a lovely field behind the church: red bull and jam fancies. It was a short day of walking—I was at the Chester Tourist Information by one. Short but lovely; mostly along rivers and through parks. When I got there I discovered it was Chesterval (of course). I panicked because there were seven million people there for the weekend: there was no way that there was going to be any room for me at the Inn. The first place I rang told me they had no singles. Three octaves up I asked about the price of a double; thirty-five pounds. Oh, um, okay then, I supppose that would do. Silent yahoo gestures made in the phone box—that's actuallly a good price and not what I expected to pay during Chesterval. The only thing was that they don't live on site so I had to wait until four to meet them. I had a antipasta plate and elderberry cordial in a cool underground tavern to pass the time. The B&B was just outside the North Gate, around a corner and behind the car park. You needed to pass a very interesting shop full of knick-knacks. I spent a fair bit of time looking through their windows—everything from art deco chandeliers to stuffed cougars to bronze-age helmets. The thirty-five pounds belay (past tense of belie?—it's surely not belied, is it?) the quality of the room. It was ace! Lovely big bed and a sunken bath. I mean a sunken bathroom. For come reason the bathroom was a couple of stairs down from the room. Weird, but lovely, and it had a skylight. Had a shower (nice after being out asleep in a mosquito-y dust-bowl all night. And then I went for a walk. I'D had a bit of a walk around while I was waiting and Chester is a pretty town with a lot to have a look at. It has a wall that goes all the way around too, and you can walk around it. It is about XXX kilometres, so I took a leisurely stroll. Leisurely because I wanted to savour, and leisurely because I keep having dizzy spells. Really not sure what that is all about. I like to think low blood sugar but I know how much sugar goes in and there is no ways that that constitutes the word 'low'. In Bath, and her in Chester, there is a strange fibreglass revolution taking place. Bath was lions. Chester is rhinos. Artists get given a large fibreglass animal to decorate. Then they place them all over town for people to see. There is an auction to sell them and all the money goes to charity. Makes for an interesting tour around town. I particularly like the roman themed one in the forum. I really fancied a curry. I couldn't for the life of me find a curry house and so I ended up in a pub. (The Victoria—with a fine portrait of the same in profile out the front. Why was she so partial to her profile? Maybe it's a stamp thing.) They actually did a curry. The women in the table beside me were vocally disappointed with their dinner. This is England people! The chef revolution is still a process in process. The curry wasn't too bad—just not spicy enough. When I got backed to my room, I sewed a sequin, and I slept like a baby that actually sleeps. Good night to Chester, good night to you.