Inconsequential rambling

The following events take place between seven PM and eight PM

2007-09-14T15:25:00.001+01:00

7:21:24
7:21:25
7:21:26

"Calling agents Main? Check in please"
"Agents Main reporting as requested"
"Your GPS signal and reception are weak. I hope you haven't stupidly got into a situation where all your equipment is running out of batte..."

7:26:41
7:26:42
7:26:43

The following events take place between six PM and seven PM

2007-09-13T19:04:00.001+01:00

6:05:21
6:05:22
6:05:23

"We've arrived at the safe house"
"Excellent. Let's stow our belongings and prepare our legends for tonight's event"

6:10:45
6:10:46
6:10:47

6:25:56
6:25:57
6:25:58

"Agent, you smell. Take a shower, and that's an order"
"As you say chief. Copy that"

6:42:32
6:42:33
6:42:34

The following events take place between five PM and six PM.

2007-09-13T18:18:00.000+01:00

5:28:18
5:28:19
5:28:20

"Agent, we're in Kilburn now. Please conceal your comms equipment as the locals may engage in hostile action at any time."
"Copy that."

5:29:18
5:29:19
5:29:20

The Royal Shaftesbury Hotel, London

2007-09-13T17:58:00.000+01:00

HPIM0114.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The following events take place between four PM and five PM

2007-09-13T17:17:00.001+01:00

4:14:52
4:14:53
4:14:54

"I'm not sure I can make it"
"Look, if you're not up to the job go home, we can bring someone else in who is. There's no time for messing around"

4:15:25
4:15:26
4:15:27

4:52:21
4:52:22
4:52:23

"Check in with the General: Dog report: zero car window head count, zero swim count. Over."

4:53:12
4:53:13
4:53:14

4:56:10
4:56:11
4:56:12

"Time's getting tight. We need to get this done and we need to do it fast"

4:58:47
4:58:48
4:58:49

4:30

2007-09-13T16:30:00.000+01:00

4:30
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The following events take place between three PM and four PM

2007-09-13T16:06:00.000+01:00

3:21:15
3:21:16
3:21:17

---

3:28:20
3:28:21
3:28:22

3:40:43
3:40:44
3:40:45

"Coming out of deep cover now. Only one Waitrose sighted in the past two miles. Do you copy?"
"Affirmative. What is your current status?"
"Now somewhere in Hendon. We have an agent injured by by the house prices but he'll live."
"OK. You need to move quickly now. You'll have to make it to the safe house in Paddington by 6 or you'll never make your final deadline, and then it won't just be your ass on the line - it'll be mine too."
"Roger that."

3:44:50
3:44:51
3:44:52

Connexions North London

2007-09-13T15:21:00.000+01:00

Connexions North London
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The following events take place between two PM and three PM

2007-09-13T15:20:00.001+01:00

2:12:47
2:12:48
2:42:49

"We've just been tasked with a new job. Agent EJ wants data on Connexions and she wants it now"
"How does that feed in to the mission?"
"I don't know but she's willing to exchange the data for resources and at the moment a copy of the Young People's Survival Guide to York and a couple of pints are just what we need"
"Roger that - the files are on their way"

2:14:25
2:14:26
2:14:27

2:40:35
2:40:36
2:40:37

"Status report: almost through Finchley. Surrounded by Londoners, and at least four Waitroses in the last hour."
"Sounds serious. Suggest going dark."
"Copy."

2:42:52
2:42:53
2:42:54

2:56:15
2:56:16
2:56:17

---

2:59:43
2:59:44
2:59:45

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the Earth (3)

2007-09-13T14:24:00.000+01:00

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the Earth (3)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The result, as displayed on a newly-erected local street sign

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the earth (2)

2007-09-13T14:23:00.000+01:00

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the earth (2)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

By tampering with evidence

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the earth (1)

2007-09-13T14:20:00.000+01:00

Erasing Nottingham from the face of the earth (1)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Finger-based photographic obscurationalisation

The following events take place between one PM and two PM

2007-09-13T14:17:00.001+01:00

13:12:44
13:12:45
13:12:46

"We've just finished processing al-Symington's intel. It would appear that Diziet is in possession of a nuclear device powerful enough to destroy the entire country. He's currently holed up in a safe-house near Nottingham. We have to act now or risk the lives of milions of people and their pets and kiddies."
"What are you suggesting?"
"We have to obliterate Nottingham, and we have to do it now."
"This isn't what I signed up for. Don't the residents of Notingham get any say in this?"
"It's either the residents of Nottingham or the whole country. How many innocent lives do you want to be lost on your watch?"
"Well, you've left me no choice. But I don't like it. I don't like t one bit."
"Backup, prepare an assault team. I want to see results within the hour."

13:16:01
13:16:02
13:16:03

13:58:31
13:58:32
13:58:33

"It's done. Nottingham has been wiped from the face of the earth. Someone get Spanners to download the satellite imagery to verify."
"Copy that."

13:59:12
13:59:13
13:59:14

HPIM0107.jpg

2007-09-13T13:48:00.000+01:00

HPIM0107.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

5 The following events take place between twelve noon and one PM

2007-09-13T13:32:00.001+01:00

12:23:23
12:23:24
12:23:25

"Quick, pass the salad cream!"
"Why?"
"This salad needs neutralising. And go easy with the salt, homeland security played hell last time we requested more before they thought we should need it"

12:25:41
12:25:42
12:25:43

Filling the Watford gap

2007-09-13T12:20:00.000+01:00

Filling the Watford gap
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

4 The following events take place between eleven AM and twelve noon

2007-09-13T12:12:00.000+01:00

11:01:01
11:01:02
1:01:03

"Something's coming through on the wires. There's been a break-out at Uttoxeter high security prison. Isn't that where Mad Dog was being held?"
"Yes. And GCHQ has just paged me with some chatter they've been picking up. Looks like Mad Dog's old terrorist cel has been in communication with al-Symington. Looks like that one should have been given a higher threat rating at this week's briefing"
"That gap she blasted in Watford may have been more than a warning shot after all. We've really dropped the ball on this one and we need to pick it up again, right now. I want all the intel we can get, within the hour."

11:05:59
11:06:00
11:06:01

11:28:22
11:28:23
11:28:24

"I've got Division on hold. Al-Symington's on the line with some demands."
"I thought I made it clear to you during the Harper-Corby affair - we do not negotiate with terrorists!"
"She's offering us intel on Diziet's plans, in exchange for full immunity for Watford. I think we may have to do this."
"This stinks to high heaven, but if it's what we've got to do then I guess we'd better get on and do it."

11:31:07
11:31:08
11:31:09

11:52:34
11:52:35
11:52:36

"al-Symington's information is all very well, but we've still got this gaping hole in Watford for anyone to see. The last thing the Agency needs today is a PR disaster on top of everything else"
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm going to commandeer this construction team. The gap's big and it needs filling - to hell with protocol"

11:56:17
11:56:18
11:56:19

3 The following events take place between ten AM and eleven AM

2007-09-13T11:18:00.001+01:00

10:07:21
10:07:22
10:07:23

"Damn it! We need to work out how to cross the M25 to get to Barnet before noon today."
"That is not on your brief, Agent. You are working outside the remit of this organisation."
"Yeah? Let me tell you from someone who knows - over at Division it might be all about remits and regulations, but out here in the field there IS such a thing as a free lunch, but ONLY - repeat: ONLY - if we get to Caffe Uno in Barnet to spend our Tesco vouchers. If you care about the success of this operation you'll give me and my men all the backup we need."
"OK, point taken. I'll get on with Campion-Spall and see what I can find out."

10:08:10
10:08:11
10:08:12

10:36:12
10:36:13
10:36:14

"That's strange. If I didn't know old Mad Dog Diziet was safely behind bars, I'd swear that man behind us has the exact kind of cover his men used to use"
"Old Mad Dog! Those were the days though. You can say this for them: at least back then we knew what we were fighting for and who the enemy was. These days it's sometimes hard to tell what side we're on any more"

10:41:50
10:41:51
10:41:52

10:50:35
10:50:36
10:50:37
"OK, Agent - I've just got off with Campion Spall and it looks like you're on a clear trajectory to pass unimpeded below the M25."
"I can't believe you got off with her. We're married!"
"There's no time for emotional outbursts. Do you copy or not?"
"Copy that. I'll be going under within twenty minutes."

10:51:52
10:51:53
10:51:54

On the south side of the north-south divide (2)

2007-09-13T10:14:00.000+01:00

On the south side of the north-south divide (2)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

On the south side of the north-south divide (1)

2007-09-13T10:13:00.000+01:00

On the south side of the north-south divide (1)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

On the north side of the north-south divide (2)

2007-09-13T10:11:00.000+01:00

On the north side of the north-south divide (2)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

On the north side of the north-south divide (1)

2007-09-13T10:10:00.000+01:00

On the north side of the north-south divide (1)
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The following events take place between nine AM and ten AM

2007-09-13T10:08:00.001+01:00

9:17:45
9:17:46
9:17:47

"Stevens at division is pulling rank over that task he set us two weeks ago"
"The North-South divide? Surely he's not demanding that kind of thing on a day like this"
"He wants it and he wants it now"
"Well I'll upload the raw data streams, but he'll need Spanners to decode the information and he's prepping for the Morocco trip: wheels up in less than 24 hours. Stevens will get it when he gets it."

9:20:04
9:20:05
9:20:06

9:43:51
9:43:52
9:43:53

"OK, we've cleared Hatfield. Now in the region of Welham Green. Repeat: Welham Green."
"Copy that."

9:44:02
9:44:03
9:44:04

A hat in Hatfield

2007-09-13T08:55:00.007+01:00

A hat in Hatfield
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Some grans in Grantham

2007-09-13T08:55:00.005+01:00

Some grans in Grantham
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

A bed in Bedford

2007-09-13T08:55:00.003+01:00

A bed in Bedford
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

A loo in Luton

2007-09-13T08:55:00.001+01:00

A loo in Luton
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

1 The following events take place between eight AM and nine AM

2007-09-13T08:51:00.001+01:00

7:59:58
7:59:59
8:00:00

"Morning!"
"Morning. What shall we do today?"
"I quite fancy going for a 26 mile walk. What do you think?"
"Yeah, can't see why not. I'll just pop for a shower before we set off."

8:01:04
8:01:05
8:01:06

8:27:28
8:27:29
8:27:30
"Nearly ready to leave, I think."
"Me too. We should be able to get going within the hour."
"Yes, I think so. Let's just hope we don't get embroiled in a complicated anti-terrorist operation. That would be REALLY annoying."

8:29:03
8:29:04
8:29:05

8:58:36
8:58:37
8:58:38
"Hang on, incoming transmission"
"What is it?"
"Some rumours going round suggesting some kind of event going on at 8pm in the Founders Arms, London"
"Think we should check it out?"
"It's the only lead we have"
"In that case we'd better get going"
"Copy that"

8:59:58
8:59:59
9:00:00

TWELVE

2007-09-13T08:19:00.001+01:00

Bringing you today:

An all-new drama

Starring

Ewan Main

Gill Main

"TWELVE"

Also starring

Hatfield

Potters Bar

Caffe Uno, Barnet

The streets of London

The Millennium Bridge

A poncy hotel

and the Founder's Arms pub, South Bank

Luton, and another Hatfield

2007-09-12T23:04:00.001+01:00

Many thanks to the professors for taking over yesterday's updates for us. Frankly we're still rather proud of the contribution to knowledge that was made by our completing that challenge.

Today, as we approach the end of this monumental jaunt, was the time to attempt the first challenge we received - to bring a smile to the face of Dunc's recently-bereaved friend by bringing a memento of his much-cherished Luton Town Football Club. Dunc suggested a local paper showing some football results, but we thought we'd try a little harder than that.

Sadly, though, after several phone calls to Luton Town themselves and a conversation with none other than the club secretary (a woman named Cherry, if you'll believe THAT) we came up against the now all-too-familiar conversational manhole:
"...And you're doing this for charity, are you?"
"Erm, no, we're just doing it for no reason at all, really."
"Just for the sake of it?"
"Well, yes..."
And as you can imagine, it all went downhill from there. You'd have thought these people would have more of a sense of adventure.

We have however managed to acquire three pieces of memorabilia including a copy of the Luton and Dunstable Herald and Post, so Dunc's friend won't go too hungry.

We managed through the course of the day to clear up a matter that has bothered us for a while - what the phrase 'Garden Village/Town/City' means when located after a place name. It seems to mean 'new and charcter-lacking but prosperous estate where streets are named after commonly known flowers and shrubs'. We were sorry that we didn't see a pansy crescent, though.

As far as we can determine (and we do wish, at this stage, that we had the Professors here to give a learned opinion), we are for tonight residing in a travelodge that is literally on top of the M1. If anyone can confirm this through looking at google maps we would be most grateful.

We also had to break our way in to and out of a CCTV monitored building site to get here, but such trivialities are of little consequence currently.

Report for the Royal Society on the Crisp Preferences of the Sheep residing in the Southern regions of this good land

2007-09-12T11:21:00.000+01:00

On the Subject of the Inquiry
Your humble professors were honoured to be asked to conduct research in to the flavours of crisps favoured by sheep residing in the south of England, based both on the requestees' knowledge of our current journey and the study conducted by Dr Hunt, proving conclusively that the northern sheep will only imbibe cheese and onion flavour crisps. A copy of the research brief is presented below:

"West Riding sheep pester picnickers for crisps - which must be cheese and onion. One old ram hangs round the Tan Hill pub for handouts all the time.

East Riding sheep are alarmed and disconcerted by offers of crisps of any flavour.

What of the sheep of the south?"

Below follows a description of our methods, our data, and summary of our results.

Methods

A single blind trial was conducted using the Big Four crisp flavours (cheese and onion, prawn cocktail, ready salted and salt and vinegar).

Crisps were laid in piles on the ground by Prof Ewanson whilst Prof Gillson distracted sheep to help ensure their unawaritude of the positions of the different flavours.

Sheep were then introduceed to the scene and allowed to eat freely and with no restrictions. Once sheep had had five minutes of eating time, Prof Gillson distracted them again while Prof Ewanson photographed the remains of the heaps.

Evidence

Figure One: The Initial Piles

This shows the initial piles of crisps. Packets shown for clarity of report: these were removed before sheep were introduced. As you will see, flavours were positioned in alphabetical order from cheese and onion through to salt and vinegar.

Figure Two: Early results

Early indicators show a surprising turn as cheese and onion crisps are spurned in favour of prawn cocktail and ready salted. However no conclusive results at this stage as not enough sheep.

Figure Three: A minor penchant for cheese and onion emerges.

One sheep shows interest in the latter flavour. Interesting developments indeed.

Figure Four: Contemplation.

Having nearly finished their potato-based snack, the sheep stand back to survey the scene.

Figure Five: Completion

Having allowed sufficient time for differential eating preferences to emerge, the sheep are temporarily removed in order for analysis to take place.

Figure Six: Results

The post-feeding piles.

Conclusions

It therefore falls to us to conclude that unlike their northern cousins, sheep of the south show almost equal preferences for prawn cocktail and ready salted crisps. Cheese and onion received a fair amount of attention but fell down at the eating stage. The clear loser was salt and vinegar; this flavour was occasionally sniffed and even licked by the brave few taste pioneers of the sheep world, but none were ingested.

In conclusion, it can be seen that southern sheep display substantially stonger crispophilic tendencies than their East Riding cousins, but without the specific preferences displayed by those of the West Riding.

Ladies and gentlemen of the Royal Society, we humbly submit our conclusions for your consideration and approval.

4:30

2007-09-12T10:10:00.003+01:00

4:30
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Chalenge complete- Bedford angels located

2007-09-12T10:10:00.001+01:00

Chalenge complete- Bedford angels located
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Behold the headquarters of all Bedford-based angels: the Bedfordshire Centre for Angelicism. They asked us not to photograph them directly (and we weren't sure they'd show up anyway) but we were permitted to take this picture of their sign.

Further Selected Reports from a Bedfordshire Field Study, with Various Musings on the Same

2007-09-11T22:18:00.001+01:00

I understand that, in her dispatch dated earlier to-day, Professor Gillson related a number of features and observations of this land and its inhabitants. While no doubt eminently qualified in her own specialised discipline, whatever that may be, Prof. Gillson has to her name substantially fewer published works - not to mention professional and social accolades - than your correspondent, and it is therefore to be expected that her experiences in these godforsaken environs would provoke an overreaction from her that could be described as somewhat flustered and flighty. Nonetheless, her observations as earlier reported do to a extent give a flavour of events thus far. It now falls to me to present further excerpts from our field notes.

Flitwick area, c.1530 hours - We appear to have happened upon a primate enclosure of some kind. Slightly smaller than a man, they were engaged in uttering a wide range of sounds in a register slightly higher in pitch than that of their human cousins. Furthermore, at exactly the time at which we arrived, the inmates were staging some form of break-out. In their hundreds they were streaming out onto the surrounding streets, clad in what can only be described as some manner of ritual decoration, possibly for mating or hunting purposes. A mass of black blazers, black trousers, white collars and matching ties swam before our eyes as we attempted, finally successfully, to negotiate this tide of livestock.

1830 hours - Eureka! The ovine research project, as issued by Mr. & Mrs. Charles Hunt of the Royal Society, has been completed with great success. We shall be presenting our report to the Society imminently.

Man or Animal?; or A brief study on the Bedford Character

2007-09-11T17:26:00.001+01:00

Man or Animal?; or A brief study on the Bedford Character

Conducted brief field trials this morning to determine the answer to this age-old question, contemplated by all the greats of the past century. No time for the full text of our article as am currently observing the effects of some road-side berries I found on the academic mind, having quietly adminstered them to Professor Ewanson's drink whiole he was looking the other way. Some brief excerpts from our field notes should suffice in the meantime.

Task one: ordering breakfast in a local bar: Prof. Ewanson administered some basic tests looking for intelligence which included asking the simple-looking staff to match up spoken words in their own language with pictorial representations of the same. Although we can report some loose correlation between pictures selected and words spoken, we are unable to report any notable indicators of intellegence. Must also report that subjects leered impertenantly throughout testing.

On a local thoroughfare:

Hordes of natives sighted sitting over the pavements, drinking strong liquor despite the early hour.

Furthermore, a rather frightening altercation with youthful native on a bicycle, who swore at Prof. Gillson in its local tongue and seemed unable to distinguish between the pavement and the road.

A savage and uncivilised place indeed.

Further Scary Evidence

2007-09-11T12:25:00.001+01:00

In response to the mavellous reception generated by J Andrews' little contribution yesterday, we thought we'd offer up a further gem from the local paper:

It's no Moose steak

SIR- Now that smoking in public has been banned, isn't it about time our interfering 'Big Brother' government also gave some serious thought to outlawing vegetarianism and insisting that these pasty-faced bean-eaters do their bit for the environment too?

It is proven scientific fact that each flatulant Norwegian moose expels 2,100 tonnes of harmful methane in to the atmosphere every year. That is the equivalent of driving 13,000 kilometres in a gas-guzzling Jee, or two jumbo jets flying across the Atlantic.

If you factor in all the obnoxious gasses produced by cattle, sheep, goats, hens and other farmyard creatures, the amount of pollution must be absolutely astronomical.

Eminent scientists are forevr warning us of the terrible damage all this is going to do to our environment, causing global warming, melting of th icecaps, widespread flooding, hurricans, tsunamis and, no doubt, plagues of boils.

Therefore it must surely be incumbent on us all to do our bit for humanity be eating as many of these flatulent animals as posible before they have the chance to pollute the atmosphere still further.

Most, if not all, of those scruffy, long haired, bearded Swampy-style beatniks who recently picketed Heathrow Airport were probably vegetarians.

I suggest they would be doing more to protect the environment if they went home and tucked in to a nice juicy moose steak instead of sanctimoniously haranguing innocent people flying off to Torremolinos for a well deserved summer holiday.

No doubt some Leftie do-gooders will moan that banning vegetarianism would be a 'breach of civil liberties'.

But is it any more so than the Guardian-reading busybody who threatened to have me arrested last week for lighting up my pipe as I stood innocently in the pouring rain, annoying absolutely nobody, on Flitwick railway station?

Charlie Garth,
Flitwick Road, Ampthill

Today, we walk through Ampthill.

Bedford nightlife

2007-09-11T10:02:00.001+01:00

Good morning from Bedford, the home of the takeaway pizza. (Or, at least, that's how we've come to see it. In that respect it shares a similarity with Doncaster, Grantham and Morcott.)

Yesterday's walk passed by in fairly routine manner - blazing, alarmingly intense sunshine, further equipment breakage (the water carrier), some Sport Beans and a few rock anthems thrown in for good measure. Shortly after arriving at this, our fifth Travelodge so far, we decided on a brief trip to the local pub.

The Bird In Hand sits on the corner of a large housing estate in which every road is named after a bird. (Curlew Crescent was a particular favourite.) We walked into the main bar to find the room empty save for two people. The barman, a very widely-built fellow with shaven hair and a fixed stare out into the room, stood motionless. In the far corner, a man whose piercings were threatening to outnumber his tattooes sat slumped at a table, gazing at a copy of The Sun without ever turning the page, his two empty and one half-full pint glass on the table next to it. On one wall was pinned a food menu offering four options: chilli and chips, burger and chips, hot-dog and chips, chips. The stillness of the room was underlined by the two ceiling fans that hung motionless in front of the bar. One had its full set of four blades; the other only three. Wading through the silence, we made our way to the bar, ordered our drinks and sat down in the far corner.

The room remained silent. Attempting not to draw attention to ourselves and thereby incur the wrath of an establishment whose unspoken code had been breached, we kept our voices to a whisper. Meanwhile, the barman stared. Bereft of anybody to serve or any barmanistic tasks to undertake, he simply... stared.

After some fifteen minutes or so had passed, the barman disappeared from sight for a moment. From nowhere and with no warning, the room was filled with the loud, loud strains of music. "Son, you are a bachelor boy, and that's the way you'll stay," it sang. "Son, you'll be a batchelor boy until your dying day."

Perhaps you've heard the song before. We hadn't. And we never want to again.

The music having reached its bizarre conclusion, the room was once more plunged into silence, as abruptly as it had been hauled out of it moments earlier. Shortly afterwards, the barman came over and closed all the windows near us. That way, nobody would hear our screams.

We left quickly.

The Challenges Become Heated

2007-09-11T09:25:00.001+01:00

Following on from the rather heated demands from Kate 'I love Corby' Harper, made in the comments here, we thought we'd share with you some of the more private communications we've been having to put up with. You may have noticed a recent demand for us to be photographed by a Rushden shop, and our polite and respectful request for an incentive to do so. Well, we were most disappointed to simply receive, in reply, the demand 'Do my challenge'. When gently pushed for further incentivisationalism, all we got in return was, 'Do my challenge. It would make me happy. I want you to do my challenge'. We had to stand firm, however, as we had made clear at the outset; to change our policy now would only result in sulkings and pizza retractions from the rest of you. So after a few more demands and strops, we finally wangled a pizza out of it.

All this fades to nothing - nothing! - though, when you see the full deviousness of this challenge. The supposed shop, called BJs, appears in no telephone directories for Rushden. It appears in no on-line directories. It cannot be sighted on a stroll down the streets of that town. No indeed: the nearest shop of that name would appear to be in, of all places, Corby.

Yes, what we have here is a vicious insabotagiationising effort of our Corby-loving nemesis. She, it seems, would have us halt our quest and return to the land of the damned, where we can only assume she has some nasty, twisted fate in store for us.

But never fear, we're not to be distracted from our task even if it does mean we're a pizza down. Onwards, then, to Bedford; BJs be damned.

4:30

2007-09-11T08:55:00.001+01:00

4:30
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

A worrying omen

2007-09-11T08:54:00.003+01:00

A worrying omen
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Someone appears to be trying to tell us we're about to die...

2007-09-11T08:54:00.001+01:00

HPIM0043.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-11T08:53:00.003+01:00

HPIM0042.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Ill-advised planning decisions

2007-09-11T08:53:00.001+01:00

Ill-advised planning decisions
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

A letter printed in Bedfordshire On Sunday, 09/09/07

2007-09-10T17:45:00.001+01:00

"SIR -
I am angry with the write-up about the twins domed to die.
I do not believe the story.
I just think Mrs. Osahon wants to stay here.
I say send her back.
Jane Andrews,
Hastings Road, Kempston"

Oh dear. What have we let ourselves in for in coming here?

In answer to your messages

2007-09-10T16:34:00.001+01:00

Jon, Helen and "Kevin": thanks for your good wishes. They have indeed spurred us forward in our hour of need.

Sam: sadly there was no Merry Man action whatsoever in the vicinity of Robin Hood Airport, nor did we even see a single bow or arrow. Which was quite a relief after last year.

Kat: Your advice was good. All hail Compede, for it is good and noble.

Rosy: Your bribe is good. To be honest we were planning on doing the sheep thing anyway in thanks for such a lovely evening before we set off. Any other tasks you'd like to request?

Sue and Pam: Get knitting!

Kate: We still blame you for Corby.

What we have here is a failure to communicate

2007-09-10T09:29:00.003+01:00

It has been noted before now that these treks of ours - these odysseys; these voyages; these perambulatory eccentrips - are something of an ideological contradiction. We eschew all forms of modern transport but rely on a wide variety of 21st century technology to support us in doing so. Well, we make no apology for it. After all, what could be more traditional than a stroll through the countryside accompanied by a 30-gigabyte hard disk digital audio player connected to a portable active speaker system, guided by a Global Positioning System satellite receiver connected by Bluetooth link to a PDA running Windows Mobile, simultaneously tracked by a second GPS satelite receiver connected via a GPRS uplink to technicians in Durham university and plotted in real time on the World Wide Web, reporting on our progress using a keyboard connected by an infra-red beam to a PDA, which uses a Bluetooth link to a GPRS modem to send data and pictures via an e-mail gateway to our blog provider, combined with a second mobile phone sending updates to an SMS gateway and thence to the blog, and carrying a portable DVD player and several discs to while away the long, cold evenings? Exactly. We imagine you've all done the same thing.

Only this time it's nearly all stopped working. The first inkling that all was not as it should be was before we even set off, when we discovered that our "hotline" phone was completely functional unless you wanted it to make a sound of any kind. Not terribly helpful as a telephone then.

Next was the comment left anonymously on our blog simply asking "Where are the pictures supposed to be appearing?!" Indeed, it appeared that not a single photo had been posted, despite our using a Flickr service especially designed to do just that. Unable to fathom why, we've taken the Argument From Ignorance approach and assumed that someone just has something against us. Anyway, we quickly found a solution to that. His name's John.

Next, our internet tracking system stopped working for an entire day (see earlier post). That has now been put down to the fact that most of Leicestershire has rubbish mobile reception.

Next, the big one: on a roadside outside Corby (where else?) Ewan knelt on and thereby resolutely smashed the Pocket PC that has been the source of our navigatory prowess as well as our blogging panache. Yes, the poor old thing, on its last legs already, was unceremoniously dispached from the world of function.

But at least we could still send blog updates by text message. The marvellous little service whereby we send a text and it appears as a blog post a moment later. You may remember it from such gems as "We've got a Yorkie," and who could forget the classic "Selby does a marvellous curry"?

Well, no. A couple of days ago we discovered that since about day two, none of those has got through either. The reason? Two days into our walk, the SMS Country service spontaneously changed to become only available to those in India. No, really. So it turns out that you had no idea that we'd been answering al your comments, and even composing poetry, as we walked. Not a word of it.

Anyway, the real purpose of this post is to announce that it all now works again! Without going into too much detail, let's just say that Curry's in Kettering came to the rescue, and we are now once more entirely blogtastic and hotlineal. And we'll start answering your comments... Again.

Kettering to Rushden - Some Observations

2007-09-10T09:29:00.001+01:00

Some themes we've noticed so far:

- The Yorkshire region of our walk was defined by power stations.
- The Midland region has been defined by windmills, both functional and decorative. The functional ones scared us a bit at first but we liked them in the end.
- Fewer southerners request that we have a reason for our walk: we began last year, when people asked why we were walking to Edinburgh, to consider saying things like 'It has been foretold', or 'Because our ASBO requires it'. Southerners, maybe being more used to pointlessness, just tend to laugh and congratulate us. And in the case of a receptionist yesterday, insist on giving us more tea.
- Whilst all regions are equally primarily suited to Meatloaf and Alice Cooper, the south leans toward 70s disco classics where the North was all with the 70s and 80s glam stadium rock.
- The south has also seen a surprise entry on to its top 10 listening classics with the hits of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
- A key split between north and south is revealed in public footpath blocking methods. Where the north favoured piles of manure and farm machinery, the south has so far revealed a penchant for motorways and huge piles of felled trees.

SMS From 447954104433

2007-09-10T09:20:00.001+01:00

Drat. It appears that our photos aren't getting through. We'll try and fix it when we're not in a field near Donacster.

One minute of cricket - 1

2007-09-10T08:47:00.007+01:00

One minute of cricket - 1
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

One minute of cricket - 3

2007-09-10T08:47:00.005+01:00

One minute of cricket - 3
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

4:30

2007-09-10T08:47:00.003+01:00

4:30
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

One minute of cricket - 2

2007-09-10T08:47:00.001+01:00

One minute of cricket - 2
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Finedon Pocket Park

2007-09-10T08:46:00.005+01:00

Finedon Pocket Park
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Wicksteed park souvenir

2007-09-10T08:46:00.003+01:00

Wicksteed park souvenir
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Wicksteed Park souvenirs

2007-09-10T08:46:00.001+01:00

Wicksteed Park souvenirs
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Inside our pedal-powered monorail

2007-09-10T08:43:00.001+01:00

08-09-07_1633.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Atop a crazy Edwardian water ride

2007-09-10T08:42:00.005+01:00

08-09-07_1615.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Another Kettering wonder-barnet

2007-09-10T08:42:00.003+01:00

Another Kettering wonder-barnet
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Mutton chops

2007-09-10T08:42:00.001+01:00

Mutton chops
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-10T08:41:00.007+01:00

08-09-07_1727.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Kettering hairstyle number four

2007-09-10T08:41:00.005+01:00

Kettering hairstyle number four
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Further Kettering hair excellence

2007-09-10T08:41:00.003+01:00

Further Kettering hair excellence
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Another Kettering hairstyle

2007-09-10T08:41:00.001+01:00

Another Kettering hairstyle
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Kettering is declared the current forerunner in the Haircut Challenge!

2007-09-10T08:40:00.005+01:00

Kettering is declared the current forerunner in the Haircut Challenge!
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Ridiculous superheroes of Kettering, part two

2007-09-10T08:40:00.003+01:00

Ridiculous superheroes of Kettering, part two
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Ridiculous superheroes of Kettering, part one

2007-09-10T08:40:00.001+01:00

Ridiculous superheroes of Kettering, part one
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Ah, behold the place of our day of rest!

2007-09-10T08:39:00.001+01:00

07-09-07_1930.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

A Text Message Exchange

2007-09-09T22:15:00.001+01:00

From: Gill
To: 118118
Message: Is it legal to walk along the grass verge bordering the A1?

From: 118118
To: Gill
Message: No charge. The 118118 Text Team is really sorry, but we're unable to answer the question you sent us. Thank you for using 118118 SMS, please try us again soon.

Hardly.

The Beehive: A Short Review

2007-09-09T15:10:00.001+01:00

Our review will consist of several scores out of ten covering the main areas of service provision followed by a short qualitative comment. The challenge instigator shall be allowed up to two follow-up questions.

1. Having a Beehive: 10/10. Indeed there was one.
2. Cake References: 7/10, all from the jukebox. Even though there were only two, it was more than can be expected from a Grantham pub on a Wednesday evening.
3. Décor: 8/10. Classic pub orange with painted slogans making little to no sense.
4. Quality of patronage: 6/10. Unremarkable save for the man who smiled at us when MacArthur Park began playing.
Snacks: 6/10. Kudos for the 3 kinds of nut, but no Mini Cheddars to be seen.
Accessorising: 8/10. Stuffed bees, pictures of leaves on the menus, tropies and handled pint glasses all on display.
Music: 10/10. MacArthur Park as already mentioned, Lay Lady Lay, Handbags and Gladrags, and well intentioned if inaccurate promises that the sun ain't going to shine henceforth. All accompanied by an ever-changing display of photos of dead people on the jukebox screen, including Kennedy and James Dean (not the real one).

Over all, not outstanding but really not bad at all.

Challenges, challenges

2007-09-09T10:34:00.000+01:00

Well, the second leg is about to get underway as we prepare to leave Kettering. At this important stage in the events, it seems only appropriate to report back on the status of some of our ongoing challenges.

Find the town with the worst haircuts: This is undoubtedly, certainly and absolutely Kettering. Despite having not yet visited the delights of Bedford, Rushden, Luton, Hatfield of London, we have seen enough beauties here to be able to state confidently that Kettering is it. Some of the photos should have arrived by now - others will be here soon. Great fun has been had sneaking around Kettering taking photos of strangers.

Photo of us with the person with the biggest mutton chops Oh, boy, have we succeeded in THIS one. You will shortly be seeing this photo appear, the man in question posing proudly with us for the photo. The picture, incidentally, was taken by his wife Alison.

Eat230 has been progressing apace. Since yesterday we weren't on our journey, we didn't include yesterday in the project. It will, however, recommence today. Expect a drastic reduction in photo sizes, though, as we had a message from Virgin Mobile informing us that the first week's worth of photo uploading was approaching £100...!

North-South Divide - we are confident that we have located the North-South Divide and crossed it. It was somewhere around the Linconlshire/Leicestershire border. Due to a technical difficulty the photographic proof isn't quite available yet, but will be soon.

Obliterating Nottingham - A work in progress, but almost complete. Evidence soon.

The Beehive, Grantham - duly visited and assessed. We shall submit our review later today.

Wicksteed Park - visited, photographed and most marvellous indeed. We shall have the photos printed shortly.

Dogs - We have sighted a dog who had very recently swum, and also a dog with its head near an open car window. As yet, though, nothing that quite meets the criteria.

Grantham MFI - Sorry, Kevin, but we didn't see this challenge until we'd already left Grantham before we saw this one.

York university hooded top - Cam, we're very sorry, but this was just more than we could possibly carry. We considered posting it to London but that really wouldn't have been in the spirit of it. We humbly apologise.

Still to come:
Bedford angel
Luton Town memorabilia
Southern sheep
Watford gap
Cricket match

And, Kate, we shall give your Rushden challenge our utmost attention... provided you tell us why we should. After all, we still somehow think Corby was your fault.

To Kettering, and a rest

2007-09-08T10:54:00.000+01:00

Your faithful correspondents report today from the lobby of our hotel in Kettering, which we are pleased to announce has, so far, proven a good and righteous place. However, do not be concerned, dear readers: we have many a tale of woe to regale you with that met us on our way to this sanctuary, this place of rest and recuperation.

Our journey from Morcott began in the most surprising of manners: with a shut garage and a very nice chap at a little chef. The garage, where we had hoped to purchase a morsel of breakfast to see us through the morning's perambluations, had sustained a break-in the previous night resulting in its closure. We must admit, our hearts rather sank at the thought of nine miles with only the measly peanuts and flapjacks we had thought to pack for emergency scenarios such as these. But never fear, dear readers, never fear! Just when we thought or breakfast quest was thwarted, a Little Chef appeared to us rather like a divine revalation, with its promises not only of sustenance but of the very best kind of sustenance: vegetarian sausages, hash browns, and mushrooms in, of all the wonderous things, the marvellous concoctions, a bap! How we praised the friendly waiter whilst sipping on the tea of his generosity during the time it took our food to cook. We are also surprised and pleased to announce that the Little Chef hash browns, in contrast to our expectations, were the best quality and best cooked of our journey to date.

But darker times were to come.

Yes, dear readers, your dire warnings that we scorned when you gave them proved true. Your pleas with us that fell on deaf ears should have been heeded, and your looks of alarm at our stubborn adherence to our plans despite your well-intentioned advice were most warranted. The Northamptonshire town of Corby does indeed turn out to be all you feared and worse. A more disappointing, shoddy and at some points downright scary town has not been sighted on our walks before and, we beg it be granted, shall not be sighted again. We arrived on the outskirts, surrounded by industrial factories (the majority of which seemed to be involved in the production of Weetabix). It only went downhill from there (in a metaphorical sense. We can't quite remember, but it seems more than likely that the dastardly town itself sprung some literal uphill walking on us. It would be just like Corby to do that). Our search for the town centre revealed only one run-down street with a few shops, that seemed to have been converted to a shopping centre from an old council estate. Our search for a pub in which to recuperate resulted only in a cafe attached to a fish and chip shop, where the waiting staff seemed unaware of most of the dishes advertised on their own menu. To be fair, they did manage to supply us with a nice apple pie, but we had to pay extra - extra, would you credit it? - for the ice cream.

Our relief on leaving this godforsaken place was palpable.

On, then, your travellers continued. Through the burning sun, through, well, the more burning sun (really, the weather could have helped us out more here. Does it not realise that there should have been some driving rain in there, and some biting frost, to add to the sense of drama?). Shandy O'Clock occured in a nice little pub in the village of Gretton (or something like that), where Ewan was mocked by locals whilst Gill hid. Then on again, through to Kettering, where your weary travellers at last arrived in the pleasant, clean hotel. Today, friends, we rest. We will be updating you on a few important issues throughout the course of the day, as we are aware you have not been notified for a long time on the progress of the tasks you have set us. But for now, goodbye.

The distance from Grantham to Morcott

2007-09-07T11:33:00.001+01:00

Oh, it was long. It was long, long, long, long, long. So very, very, very, very long indeed. According to our best efforts of map-measurisation, it was about 27.5 miles. And that's really very long. Very, very, very, very long. No, really, a very long way indeed. No, no, no, no, no, it really was a very long way.

Unfortucoincidentally, it appears that the GPS tracker stopped working on the day in question, so we can't ask you to see for yourselves how long it was. We're working on getting that fixed. Buit you'll just have to take our word for it that it really was very, very, very long indeed. We don't want to describe anything else about the day, as we're concerned that that might distract you from the sheer and unmitigated longocity of the event. So, that's all we're going to say.

...Except this one other thing: the small village of North Luffenham. It is a wonderful, wonderful village simply because it contains the Fox And Hounds pub. And the Fox And Hounds is a wonderful place because it contains a man whose name we never asked but who is the husband of the landlady there. We dropped in there at about 9:15pm, at which point we still had another 2.5 miles to walk. (Did we mention that yesterday was a long one?)

The man - let's call him Mr. Fantastic - came over and asked if we'd like to pitch our tents in the pub garden to save us walking any further. We explained that no, we weren't camping, but were only 2.5 miles from our stop in Morcott.
"And you're going to walk that?"
"Yes."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"That's a terrible road. You can't walk down that road tonight."
"No - it's fine. We've walked a long way already. Only two and a half miles left."
"Not down that road, in the dark?"
"Yes, we know it's not ideal, but it's the only route."
"Give me 15 minutes. I'll sort you out."

At that point he sped off purposefully towards the other people he'd been sitting with. We realised what he was going to do, and called him back to explain that it was very kind of him, but really, we couldn't accept a lift from anybody as we had to walk the whole way.
"No you don't."
"Yes, I'm afraid we do. But it's a very kind offer - thank you."
"Why do you have to?"
And now, friends, we'd like you to imagine how stupid we felt giving the following reason. It was the only reason there was, but at that moment it really didn't seem good enough:
"Because we'll be really disappointed in ourselves if we don't."
An expression passed across his face; the expression of a man who knows firstly that he is right, secondly that the person he's talking to is barmy, but thirdly that this is a situation in which logical and careful reasoning just is not going to win the day. Like a man confronted with a door-to-door evangelist.

He accepted defeat - well, not really, but backed down with the comment: "You're on a mission. I can respect that" - but warned us to be very careful, adding that he was worried about us and would hate us to get hurt. We thanked him again and he left, only to return a couple of minutes later with...

(and you'll like this)

...a pair of high-visibility workmen's jackets! Explaining again what a dangerous road we were about to walk along, and how all he wanted was for us not to be hurt, he bestowed these wondergarments upon us, gave us exact directions to where we were going, and finished with something along the lines of "Stay safe, kids." Upon our leaving, he came out, shook our hands, and repeated the directions.

And so it has come to be that, from the team who brought you the Pillock Hat on last year's expedition, we are now the proud bearers of the Builder Jackets! And we shall be sporting them proudly for every remaining step of the journey.*

*The last sentence is not true.

2007-09-06T19:50:00.000+01:00

06-09-07_1950.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-06T16:32:00.000+01:00

06-09-07_1632.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The Beehive

2007-09-06T12:35:00.000+01:00

The Beehive
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Disconcertianism

2007-09-06T09:58:00.001+01:00

Today was strange. We'd go so far as to say that today was, in fact, disconcerting.

A series of events seemed to be set in motion from the outset of the day that led us to brook little doubt at the idea that some form of destiny, albeit couched in confusion, wonderment, and bafflmentification, was indeed at work.

The first signal we had may seem normal enough to the uninitiated. We got to where we were going, with little or no difficulty, usually slightly before we expected to get there. Yes, every stage of the journey passed in glorious conditions and with a little less time and effort than expected. The sun shone, and the roads were well-maintained and relatively car-free. Thus, 22 miles passed with surprisingly little incident and surprisingly little to complain about.

True, there were occasions when the door-to-door salesman of Doubt started to tap its well-groomed hand on the door; but on each occasion, Lady Fortune was resolutely not at home to uninvited callers. The most notable of these ocasions occuring at that point of the day when you really need a pub to sell you some good shandy. However, in a way that was all too reminiscent of last year's journey and the Great Closed Counties of the North, pub after pub passed us by with firmly locked door or doors. Just as we were starting to despair and concoct clearly unviable revenge schemes upon the whole of the East Midland region, however, we happened upon a man. A wonderous man. A man of great yet subtle talent and marvel. A man who, if you don't mind us saying so, was to all intents and purposes as a god to us at that moment. This man invited us in to his house and made us a cup of tea each. He offered toast. He let us stroke his dog, and told us of his plans to emigrate to Malaysia. Oh yes, such a fine man has rarely before been spotted. This, if nothing else, cemented our sense of wonderment with the day.

Anyway, fully tea'd and rested, we carried on to the next village where indeed there was a pub that provided shandy. Onwards through many an amazing house we passed, taking the high road rather than the low road as we hope you will see from the pictures.

And then we arrived in Grantham. We have to admit, our hotel is more disappointing and over-priced than disconcerting, but this was more than made up for by a pub playing, of all things, MacArthur Park and a fellow punter who walked by and made positive gestures at us on hearing this. There was also good pizza.

2007-09-05T19:22:00.000+01:00

05-09-07_1922.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-05T19:21:00.000+01:00

05-09-07_1921.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-05T17:25:00.000+01:00

05-09-07_1725.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-05T16:50:00.000+01:00

05-09-07_1650.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-05T15:25:00.003+01:00

05-09-07_1401.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Spotted in the Muskham Ferry pub

2007-09-05T15:25:00.001+01:00

04-09-07_2204.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

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

2007-09-05T09:15:00.001+01:00

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

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

Our route to Travelodge Newark North Muskham, part two

2007-09-04T22:13:00.000+01:00

Our route to Travelodge Newark North Muskham, part two
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Our route to Travelodge Newark North Muskham, part one

2007-09-04T22:11:00.000+01:00

Our route to Travelodge Newark North Muskham, part one
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

2007-09-04T17:04:00.000+01:00

04-09-07_1704.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Retford

2007-09-04T09:23:00.001+01:00

Leaving a service station on the junction of two motorways without uising motorised transport is a unique experience, and one we'd recommend you all try at least once. After arriving at our Travelodge on a path between two slag heaps, we left it on a nice coutry track past some poor houses that must have been nice before someone decided to turn their view into a motorway.

A few lists for you:

Animals sighted during the day (alive ones only):
2 Frogs
Several Ducks
Several Ducklings
A Friendly Dog who wanted to join in the fun
A strange looking wasp-like being who was long, spindly, and insistent on staying on Gill's arm
Assorted horses, cows, and similar livestock
Numerous rabbits hopping gaily (you know, happily) to and fro along our path
A thousand beautiful butterflies fluttering daintily among us

Roads travelled on over the past two days:

Beast Fair
Sour Lane
Dirty Lane
Trundle Lane

Conversations with strangers in pubs;
One, but a good one. (The White Horse, Barnby Moor - highly recommended for the quality of its locals.)

Also, a special mention has to go out to the most subservient coincierge we've met in a good while. The conversation on our arrival went something like this:

"How much do we owe you?"
"Oh, nothing, sir, nothing at all"
"Can we come and get another set of towels?"
"Oh madam, I'm so sorry we didn't meet your needs. Let me bring you some immediately"
"Have you got a shiny parcel for us, full of wonderous supplies to see us through the next few days?"
"If that it what you require, then that, of course, is what I shall provide'
"Boy? Can you get us some breakfast?"
"Why, it goes without saying. There will, naturally, be no extra charge"

Man needs to grow a backbone or he won't survive in today's dog-eat-dog business environment. (In fact he was a very polite young man and we had a marvellous room and stay. We'd thoroughly recommend the Best Western West Retford, even if its address does include the line 'East Retford").

Onward, now, to our next night's accommodation venue - the A1 southbound.

2007-09-03T16:48:00.000+01:00

03-09-07_1648.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

The Doncaster region

2007-09-03T08:56:00.000+01:00

Hello from the M1/M18 junction!

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the car park is half full (yes, half full, not half empty), the WHSmith is choc-full of enticing goods and the Ritazza is brewing up overpriced but tempting coffee-based products. Yes, it's a beautiful day and all is well at the Doncaster North motorway services, just north of Hatfield and our chosen stopping point last night.

Yesterday was a day that mainly featured wind, power stations and motorways. The latter two had of course been expected - you'll be reassured to know that experienced navigators such as ourselves are more than capable of discerning a power station and a motorway on an Ordnance Survey map. The wind, though, was more of a revelation. So strong and so continuous was it that we were forced to do without music for the whole day. Think of it - not even ONE single, briefest rendition of Total Eclipse Of The Heart to cheer us on through the long, monotonous country lanes of the Goole region. Harrowing indeed.

The harrowingicity of this state of affairs was further exacerbated at about 3pm. While following a clearly-marked footpath, identified as a public right of way on the map and on the ground, we came upon an inconvenient obstacle blocking our path: the M62. Built straight across the path. When you see a motorway crossing a track on a map, you assume (or is it just us?) that there'd be some way of crossing - but no. Just slap a motorway on there and to hell with pedestrians - after all, it's progress. You'd be surprised at how difficult it actually is to try to reach one place from another on foot. We suspect this is a theme we'll be returning to over future days.

But nonetheless, the harrowingicity was substantially ameloirated by a marvellous round of Sport Beans which spurred us jovially on through a suburb of Doncaster, through to a brief shandy stop, and past several slag heaps to the place we call home for tonight.

The services do deserve a brief mention for their twix machine and notably their take-away list, enabling us to get not only pizza but also stella delivered to our door. We can only hope that tomorrow offers more varied scenery and less wind.

The outskirts of Doncaster are alight!

2007-09-02T18:09:00.000+01:00

02-09-07_1809.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Sport beans, our only hope

2007-09-02T16:33:00.000+01:00

02-09-07_1633.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

SMS From 447954104433

2007-09-02T16:32:00.001+01:00

If anyone knows why it is that power lines make a fizzing noise when you walk near them, can you let us know?

SMS From 447954104433

2007-09-02T15:53:00.000+01:00

Oh, the wind. The wind. The wind, and the wind, and the M62, and the wind.

Last-minute challenge issued and completed

2007-09-02T14:02:00.000+01:00

The satellite tracker is clearly working well. As we approached the North Yorkshire town of Carlton, we received a sudden addition to our list of challenges: "Hello! R U walking through Carlton? If you are please send a rude sign in the direction of Holy Family school in revenge for my 5 years there? Bon Voyage. C x"

Technology allowing, a pictorial record of the event should be displayed nearby.

Challenge complete.

2007-09-02T14:00:00.000+01:00

Challenge complete.
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

Ah beautiful Yorkshire

2007-09-02T11:25:00.000+01:00

02-09-07_1125.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main

SMS From 447954104433

2007-09-02T10:00:00.001+01:00

It has emerged that our 'hotline' is not so much a hotline as a tepid and slightly broken line. The phone we have bought especially for this purpose has lost its capacity to make any noise, be it ringing or a person talking. Therefore, while we still gratefully anticipate your encouraging texts, there's no point in ringing us for the time being.

Selby

2007-09-02T08:50:00.000+01:00

Whatever else you might say, it can't be denied that Selby provides a very decent curry.

Although that's about all there is to say about it.

Our walk started out pleasant enough, with a bike track leading through the countryside surrounding York, which leads you through a scale model of the solar system. We got by with only one near-death encounter with cyclists who seemed to decide that not slowing down and going on both sides of us, as close as possible, was the best way to deal with pedestrians. However, as the bike track went on and on, and the planets got further and further apart, we began to wonder whether civilisation was becoming nothing but a distant memory, forever haunting our dreams but never showing its face to your faithful correspondents. But then we came upon Riccal, which provided not only a nice shandy but also a choice of two pubs in which to drink it, which made up for the previous lack.

Anyway, some scary industrialisation, that had us hankering back to the old days of the neverending countryside, later, we got to Selby. Our initial impressions were of a rather scary town, complete with frightening looking youths. However, having imbibed a healthy dose of The X-Factor, we finally brought ourselves to leave the comfort of our room to seek out food, and the initial impression proved false. An unimpressive start, but after an encouraging curry performance and two spontaneous discounts (one for pointing out that the restaurant had undercharged us, and the other for being vegetarian in a guest house, if you please) Selby has made it through to Boot Camp.

SMS From 447954104433

2007-09-02T05:35:00.000+01:00

You can say what you like about Selby, but it does a fine curry.

Selby is frightening.

2007-09-01T23:32:00.000+01:00

01-09-07_2332.jpg
Originally uploaded by mr_e_main