West Retford to North Muskham - a day of darkness and light

In retrospect, one would be forgiven for thinking that today should
have been given up as a bad job, put aside in that place where you put
all those things that you start and then lose interest in (you know -
things like build-it-yourself scale models of famous bridges, or Jane
Austen novels, or careers in the helping professions) and then quietly
forgotten. Not that it was a bad day by any means. Certainly not; on
the contrary, it was a day filled with lovely things like sunshine and
windmills and ice creams and friendly publicans and music and hats and
tortellini. However, amongst all this shininess were definitely a
number of hints that maybe someody in a position of power over our
lives - George W. Bush, perhaps - didn't want this day to succeed from
the outset.

The earlier portents of which we speak slowed us down considerably
before we'd even got out of Retford. Firstly, a mile or so into the
journey it was discovered that we'd left a phone behind - more
significantly, the phone by which we are recording all the photographs
of this merry jaunt. So, back to the hotel to find that, on the way to
which we saw the most marvellous mullet yet encountered but were
prevented from submitting it as evidence in Jim's challenge by the
fact that the camera phone was still in Room 19, Best Western West
Retford (see earlier posts for a description of that). Returning to
the hotel to collect it, we were greeted by the postman delivering a
large parcel full of our clothes, shoes, maps etc that was supposed to
be arriving not only several days later but also in Kettering. Further
delays and general self-criticism while we lugged the offending item
to the post office to spend a further £10.67 on sending the damned
thing to where we thought we'd sent it in the first place.

Despite these onerous setbacks, we finally got going along our sunlit
road. The first few miles passed without remark, but a further sign
of the difficulties to come arrived when we found ourselves trying to
cross the A1 at a roundabout with building work covering most of the
verges. A short forray with death later, though, we continued as if
oblivious to the threat hanging ever closer over our heads, like that
sword people bang on about that hangs closely over people's heads,
presumably in a metaphorical manner.

Further signs of what was to come included (in chronological order):

- A woman serving us orange juice and lemonade, tutting when we told
her where we were heading and saying that there really wasn't a route
suitable for pedestrians.
- Gill's Mars icecream falling apart, resulting in a messy, if tasty,
downing of the object rather than a slow relishing of it.
- A man mocking us for not being able to find the pub.
- The maps we were using both clearly indicating that the path we
hoped to use only ran for half of the distance we hoped to use it for.

That final one, we see now, was probably our strongest hint.

As you will have seen from previous photos, this chronic blunder, this
fantastical faux-pas, this cock-up of the highest degree, resulted in
us fighting our way through a field of corn that was taller than we
were and full of spiders, insects and other farmyard animals. We
hoped for an exit and a neatly manicured Travelodge lawn on the far
side of this mayhem: we hoped in vain. There was what can only be
described as a drainage system that we had to clamber around and a
bank made of concrete we had to crawl up, making our way again on to
that fateful road the A1, where our difficulties were if anything
exacerbateed by a lorry driver deciding to scare us by blasting his
extremely loud horn at our foliage- and insect-covered selves.

However, the Travelodge itself proves comfortable enough and within
easy walking distance of a pub which, whilst devoid of stella,
provides a very nice meal. All said, we can go on our way with our
heads held high in the knowledge that whilst we trespassed, got
uncomfortably covered in the stuff of farms, and possibly severely
damaged several sections of the highway code, we at least avoided a 5
mile detour that was our only other option. Now, rested and fed, we
can look forward with no little trepadation upon tomorrow's voyage in
to the disconcerting world of Grantham.

Today's main musical highlights:
Funky Town by Lipps Inc
Spirit in the Sky - both the Normal Greenbaum and Doctor and the Medics versions
Bat Out Of Hell by Meatloaf
Poison by Alice Cooper

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Mr. Ewan Main
ewan@dunelm.org
That is all.