Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Retford
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.
Monday, September 3, 2007
The Doncaster region
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.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
SMS From 447954104433
If anyone knows why it is that power lines make a fizzing noise when you walk near them, can you let us know?
Last-minute challenge issued and completed
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.
SMS From 447954104433
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
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.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
SMS From 447954104433
Ladies and gentlemen, please find nearby our 4.30 photo. We shall be demonstrating our state at this time each day.
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