Firstly I must thank all of you for your support, interest and encouragement in all things. I am certainly not worthy and am humbled. Thank you all and bless you.
I eventually wake up and set off with the glorious dales a beckoning.. I’m hurting everywhere! I know friends are at festivals, on holidays and having a summer to emboss their facebook kudos. I would kill to be involved in this summer’s festivities. Uuuuu swines haahaaa!!
Curses flutter like colourful butterflies from yours truly as my walking gains pace.
My concerns grow and I decide to choose a less busy route, as the ‘A65’ that I’m on is like a bad day in Bangkok.
The day rolls on and I cannot be bothered to talk about my increasing leg problems. I pray then try to ignore.
At one point of rest I watch what I think are some sort of seeds drifting in the wind. These look like tiny sycamore seeds as they fall, rotating and propelling but with the same white wafer wings as dandelion seeds. As I watched I realised their random wind driven dances were not random at all and were seemingly defying the nature of wind and gravity. They have a bright white wing which was the upper most part that was rotating and a tiny body dangling below… or I was truly going mad!! I look closer and one lands on me.. I’ve never seen these tiny creatures ever before and enclose a picture of these little marvels. Answers on a postcard please!!
The rugged and rolling Yorkshire Dales slowly lumber up and are my right hand rail for the remains of my journey. I am amazed at how their slopes bath in ever changing colours and I’ve never seen such an extensive network of hand-built brick walls laying vein like and stretching tapestry like as far as the eye and imagination can perceive. I ponder on how long these monumentally long walls must have taken to make. All in aid and purpose to contain tomorrow’s roast dinner. UUUUUUUMMM dinner, I am STARVING!!!!!!
Eventually I arrive to Long Preston, which is a quaint sleepy village, my head bloodied and bent over vulture like for dinner. I’m looked at with veiled inquisitiveness upon arrival and this grows to positive bewilderment at my ordering a third meal and I guess my appearence encourages a swifter delivery of a larger and supposedly Gavin defeating ‘complimentary’ third meal. By the time I’ve polished away my food I’ve become attuned with the broad local dialect and banter around me, with a few classics heard like, “Eeh byy gumm, By eeckk cock, downt ta road and Oowtt naa rong wee tahhtys”
I fiddle with this blog as my third meal hits home and I’m wiped out and this has been a very long day and I’m sorry I’m off to bed.
This whole mission has swallowed up all of me in all respects, I realise and have known I’m going to be in various dire straits at the end of this..of which there is no guarantee of completion. I am not even half way. I feel like I’ve dragged my g.f from muddy path and hate this and these feelings.. .. I miss my girlfriend and feel very alone and down.
Bradford beckons tomorrow.
“Carpe diem!”