Ticking over, annoyingly

Today is the 9th anniversary of me reaching John o’Groats and I have had numerous “9 years ago” reminders on Facebook over the past ten weeks. But that day was nowhere my favourite memory of walking. John o’Groats was one of the dankest places with almost nothing of any interest there. Even the lady in the small souvenir shop was very matter of fact as she signed and stamped my form. It was as if this was an everyday occurrence (maybe it was, for her) but she might have at least said congratulations or well done to me.

No, my favourite moment, by far, was finishing London2Brighton two years later. I was absolutely out on my feet for the final 5km of the 100km and the crowd at Brighton Racecourse gave me a brilliant ovation as I could barely put one foot in front of the other for the final few steps. The MC said something like, “this is what walking 100km through the night looks like” so I must have looked as tired as I was. I had to get Pammy to collect my case since I was struggling even to shuffle to the car. Thankfully, the two later ultra challenges that I completed were less painful and I was in a much better state at the end of each.

I wasn’t bothered about celebrating my LEJOG anniversary with a particularly memorable walk. A gentle morning through roads both main and side took me to coffee. I checked the distance and that made me chuckle inside. Many of you will have bought petrol and aimed to get an exact amount at the pump, and tried hard not to take the amount beyond, say, 20 pounds or 15 litres, say. It is really annoying then when the pump ticks a penny over. It is simply untidy. Today I reached Collingwood coffee at a really irritating 7.01 miles. I do vary where I break and it’s ok there but it always feels a bit dark. In terms of lighting, that is, not like the set of a 1940s film noir Hitchcock flick.

I had timed it well for the restart coincided with the early stages of Crystal Palace v West Ham on my radio. I didn’t care especially about the result, not having any players in my Fantasy Football team, and with both sides having sufficient points for me not to desperately want them to pull further away from the side at the bottom.

There really was not much of note in today’s walk. It was warm in the sun and chilly in the shade. Pretty low key without any spells of speed walking or even walking to any urgency whatsoever. The 5 grounds challenge next Saturday will be very similar in the first stage, starting early to allow a gentle pace over about 11 miles to reach the furthest ground from home before the first match commences. The later stages, by contrast, will resemble a time trial without quite knowing when I need to reach the different grounds – who knows at what time each match will finish. What I do know is that I will give myself a decent chance by kicking on as best as I can over those 14 miles or so.

19.64 miles today. Feeling a trifle leggy near the end but no great worries. My shoes and feet appear to have settled down and no after-effects other than the start of a bit of sole soreness, fairly normal at this sort of distance. A shower followed by a good old talcing and everything feels just a little better.

When walking and cricket collide

The big cricket 5 ground challenge is only a couple of weeks away, on 6th May. Yet we are only now this weekend seeing our first friendlies, thanks to the unkind weather over the past month. It is not unfeasible that one or more of our five games might be called off even if it is not raining on that day; there is simply limited time to prepare the grounds. But let’s be positive – there is cricket today with our 1st team in action at Totton and Eling. I could walk there and back, take in a bit of the game. It’s where walking and cricket collide, aptly worded like the Def Leopard hit single since my right ear has gone deaf again.

It’s a decent trek there, and the latest I would want to start off would be about 9:45. Bang on with that, the not-so-sweet spot plastered up, and I kicked on over the Itchen Bridge to reach the coffee stop in Southampton walking at over what I normally think as good pace. Something like today’s 3.7 miles per hour is very good going. I cut the stop to 20 minutes to save time and push on through Millbrook and reached Totton and Eling’s ground at 1:20, around 12 miles, having taken an almost optimal route.

Whilst not quite a scratch side, we did have a number of players absent for this friendly but still a side capable of being competitive, albeit against a good side one division higher than us. We were in the field, having not taken a wicket before I had arrived. Having been desperate for a number three (a number one and a number two) I had stopped in Totton town centre. Now having reached the ground, Totton’s number one and number two (the openers) were getting the runs. I chatted to the scorers, both of whom I know very well, and then walked a lap of the boundary. An important rule here is to go right (anti-clockwise) if you want runs, or to go left (clockwise) if you want wickets. Left it was to be. At 99 for 0 wicket, it was in danger of becoming a big Totton score, perhaps a Totton and Eling comedy for them, but my directional decision led to a spell of 4 wickets for only 20 runs.

I stayed there for about an hour before dragging myself away for the journey home. My feet were standing up, in fact if anything the recently troublesome right foot was more comfortable than the left. I soldiered on, hoping to catch the closing stages of the other Sarisbury friendly taking place closer to home. I felt I had to stop in Southampton for a drink and a snack, which was an absurdly cheap vegan sausage roll. Very nice indeed, and a few minutes sit down near my old workplace at Solent University.

I didn’t make the other friendly, missing an early finish by about 20 minutes. As light rain started, I had a quick stop at our main ground and caught up with the results: a loss at Totton and Eling, unsurprising but we had given a decent account of ourselves, especially in the field; and a win for our 2nd/3rd team in Bursledon. I was a bit shattered, but my feet and legs were only hurting through tiredness, no new damage or anything. My right foot was fine which was a big unexpected bonus.

Good luck to everyone at tomorrow’s London Marathon. Unfortunately I couldn’t quite match you, just the 25.85 miles. Very pleased with that and it has injected a little more confidence that the 5 ground challenge is very possible as long as the later games run a reasonable course and don’t finish too early. And, of course, we have half-decent weather for a couple of weeks. I write this on Saturday evening as I once again hear the rain on the conservatory roof……..

Bertie Bassett comes to the rescue

Customer service ain’t wot it used to be. Without betraying my irritation to the extent as to trigger the woman serving me to press the red button under the counter, I made sure that she knew that I wasn’t happy. I had walked into one of those areas dominated by council housing with only one shop on the estate, finding that my drinks bottle was empty while desperately needing a drink.

I located a drink and a sausage roll, somewhat overpriced (but that is often the case where the alternative is at least a mile away) and took them to the counter. This was guarded by a plastic screen, offering the apparent double protection against both COVID and a sawn-off shotgun. With the facial expression of someone watching paint dry, devoid of any obvious enthusiasm for her role, she pointed me to the sign that the minimum purchase using a debit or credit card was £4. I can’t say the shop had numerous attractive options to increase my potential spend of £2.79 but a packet of licorice allsorts at £1.25 just about tipped the balance. The fact that I spent around two minutes to choose them incurred not a flicker of emotion from the ‘rules is rules’ shop woman. Barely a muttered ‘thank you’ from either of us at the closing of our transaction.

That whole drama occurred about 16 miles in. On another dry day with another 0% rain forecast, it wasn’t quite as warm as last week with a keen breeze at times. I took a fairly direct route to Port Solent for coffee as the mileage just passed into double figures. Rewind to a conversation that I must have had a thousand times. Or at least a large number of times.

B (Barista): Hello, sorry to keep you waiting.

K (me): That’s fine.

B: What would you like?

K: Can I have a large latte with vanilla?

B: Thanks. Is that to have in or take away?

K: To have in, but can I have a take away cup?

B: Yes, that’s fine. Would you like to try our new seasonal blend of coffee?

K: Oh no thank you.

B: Is there anything else you’d like?

K: No thank you, that’s fine.

B: Do you have a C**** card?

K: Yes I do. (Hands card to B)

B: Thanks. (Swipes C**** card) (Every 1 in 8 coffees: B: Ah, you have a free one. Would you like that? K: Yes please) (7 times out of 8: B: Ok, that will be x pounds y please – where x and y become increasingly larger over time).

Today was a 1 in 8 time, free coffee, or (of course) a chance to recoup some of the overpayments for the previous seven. A half hour sitting down, pondering the world, practicing my own form of mindfulness and meditation. I wasn’t so galvanised by the infusion of coffee as on some other occasions but I didn’t feel too bad until my right inside heel started hurting. I have had a blister there from my new walking boots and patched it up again with Compeed prior to starting out this morning – there is clearly a not-so-sweet spot there.

At least the streets were mostly bathed in sunshine and it doesn’t feel such an effort now we’re approaching summer. Such a contrast to winter when, while council staff were gritting the roads, walkers were gritting their teeth. My feet were rubbing me up the wrong way almost as much as the shop ‘assistant’ but I limped in at 21.59 miles. And I have a bit of Bertie Bassett for company.

Sunday filler

Nothing too much to see here. Something of a filler post. Not that I didn’t enjoy a nice walk on Easter Sunday. Good news all round, actually. Other stuff: I regained hearing in my right ear temporarily for a couple of hours in the evening so a great encouragement for my olive oil in trying to, er, ‘pop ear’ for a few more days yet. While I wouldn’t want to wax lyrical yet about my improved sensory being, I did have to turn the volume down on the tv.

I am also winning another battle against that large blister on my inside right heel. Compeed is doing its thing and still hanging on grimly and stickily, and doing exactly what it says on the tin small green plastic packet. I’ll leave it to come off in its own time.

As ever, it is always nice to have a walk with Pammy. While that means that anything near 20 miles is normally out of the question, a shorter walk together usually means that we’ll find somewhere away from busy roads and interesting. It is a long time since I visited Manor Farm and we parked in Botley, walking south along the apparent country lane. We didn’t enter the farm itself (we both felt a tenner each was a bit much for our frugal pockets) and passed by onto a recently constructed path that was serving as a COVID memorial. Scores of saplings serenading us along a stony path before we ventured further.

There seemed to be many more paths than on previous pre-pandemic visits and we wandered in a generally southern direction until we almost reached Bursledon by the River Hamble. We considered walking to our house – another mile and a half – and driving back to Botley to pick up the other car. Instead we turned back, taking a different and more direct route back. We felt that we weren’t going to need any more refreshments than we already we had with us, especially as tea and coffee looked expensive given the sizes of paper cup that we observed. We could – and did – have a nice cup of tea when we got home.

It is a really nice place for a walk but the facilities are a little pricy for what they are. Thankfully, we had not parked at Manor Farm (£5 for two hours – for that price, does that include a valet?) but had an extra mile back to our car. A lovely time together, for a little over two hours and a gentle but still steady 6.77 miles. Sometimes the company is more important than anything else.

Forever young (and nice)

A four day weekend was just what the doctor ordered. A week during which my Facebook account was hacked, necessitating all the usual sorts of faffing about to secure it, while keeping tabs on all suspicious digital activity around me. A week during which I lost hearing in my right ear, and having to commence the whole procedure of olive oiling it prior to syringing, a process that used to be free at one’s GP but is now at the mercy of other private operators for about 25 or 30 quid per ear. A week during which I had others at work make decisions that could have been made weeks and months ago, that now dumped significant and urgent work on me and my team.

At least Good Friday started as good. A weather forecast with 0% chance of rain, yes zero per cent, and a temperature in double figures for the entire duration of any intended time for a walk. For the first time in months, it was goodbye woolly hat and gloves, hello cap. I managed to leave the house before 10am, not a bad effort even though some of you are no doubt used to regularly getting up and out two or three hours earlier than that.

I had the choice of three pairs of boots, (i) the old worn ones that still had a 20 mile walk in them, (ii) the new ones that I wore last Saturday or (iii) another new pair that I hadn’t even tried on. I have decided to have two new pairs that will thus last twice as long, and to have a handover period to another pair when one of the current two new pairs start wearing out. I went for option (ii). They had given me a couple of blisters last week, not unexpectedly, one of which did need a Compeed plaster before walking today. I was hoping to, er, step up a couple of miles over last week so something in the order of 15-16 miles but I would see how it went and act accordingly.

Having the cap was the right choice. It was chilly in the shade but really pleasant on the sunny side of the street. Dogs appeared to be even more interested than usual in me for some reason and one young girl struggled to hold back a rather large mutt (sorry I can’t be more precise on the breed) eager to either play with me or eat me. Perhaps it was the black cap that might have offered me something of a Joe Goldberg look. As an aside, the fourth season of You is nowhere near as good as the first three, in my humble opinion. Don’t take this the wrong way readers but, I don’t love You the way I used to.

I reached my coffee stop in a little over 7.5 miles, having taken a round-the-houses route around the houses to Stubbington. One customer in front of me was somewhat challenged in making up his mind and the barista’s patience was wearing thinner than a skinny latte. Eventually I was served by one of my favourites. To see her in action is like watching Picasso dancing his paintbrush against a canvas, while her colleague was more like Salvador Dali overdosing on anti-depressants.

My foot was still on merely ‘aware’ stage, yet to threaten the later stages of uncomfortable, painful, agony and unwalkable. I took the streets by the scruff of the neck as the afternoon became significantly warmer. Not only was I approaching the normal time for the maximum temperature, by this time I was also a few miles closer to the Equator than at the outset.

It seemed fine to take a route around Daedalus and on to Fareham that would clearly be further than the original intention. As I neared the top of Newgate Lane, a woman approached me, looking somewhat lost. She explained that she had only recently moved to the area and was looking for the train station. It wasn’t out of my way to walk in that direction and on the way we had a nice chat about this and that. I was flattered that she said that I was “such a nice young man”, especially as she looked about 20 years younger than me. She actually said it on three separate occasions. It simply felt good to do a good deed.

I wasn’t feeling bad at all though my right foot did move to the ‘uncomfortable’ stage in the last three miles. I had walked at a steady pace all day and dropped into the cricket club to chew the fat over ball and bat prior to the forthcoming season. No-one called me “such a nice young man” but, then again, they know me very well. A few more paces to my home and a more than satisfying 20.66 miles. A blister under the Compeed but there it will stay until that comes off by its own accord. Definitely feels considerably better than last week and hope springs eternal for more walking during the evenings of the next week. Just possible that I might fit in a shorter one over the rest of the weekend.