get off my mind this weekend.
apart from hunting around for a postcard with Taunton castle on it (my
little brother ben is studying them in his year 2 class), I spent most
of my time eating comfort food from tescos next to the b&b. it was
nice to watch awful tele including the eurovision song contest,
especially without having to wake up to a wet tent.
Sun 17th May - Taunton to Street...
I woke up to... oh I think you know how this goes by now... it was
raining as per usual. however this time it wasn't drizzle, it was
stair rods.
as I left Taunton, everyone was still pressing the snooze buttons on
their alarms, with only a tiny trickle of activity to show anyone
actually lived there.
pavements soon turned into footpaths and then into towpaths along what
was left of the canals. these clearly weren't the council's priority
as half the time I was hacking through nettles and crapweed high as my
shoulders.
leaving the natural canal routes, I now moved along what was clearly
man-made channels, straight as an arrow. strafing these canals was
the always enjoyable sight of a lot of bulls, eager to make my life a
pain in the arse.
I think the bulls from the other day had rung ahead to give this bunch
the heads up that I was on my way, seeming as from a mile off they
were making tracks towards me.
in this driving rain I couldn't be bothered to mess around, so I
walked straight at them with a swagger that clearly pissed them off a
treat. they were moving in two groups, one ahead and one behind like
something from the film aliens. when I felt their breath on my neck,
it was time to bolt for the fence and get out of trouble, however wet
metal isn't too grippy.
this leap of faith caused my leading leg that was supporting my weight
and my bag, to slip off the fence and leave me to drop suddenly.
the sight must have been priceless for the group of walkers I'd just
passed as I landed bang smack on my goolies, screaming in pain and
slumping off the railings into the wet grass below.
on the plus side, I was due for a rest, so staying down on the ground
in a pile was as much of a great time as any to rest up.
after a bit of recovery time, I was back on the "footpath" and trying
not to think of my shattered crown jewels.
the route now went from short grass that didn't even register with me,
to long nettles and reeds that again easily met my shoulders.
within minutes my boots were soaked through and through, even with the
waterproofs and gaiters I was wearing. I could hear my feet
squelching but unlike on Bodmin Moor, I was wearing my '1000 mile
socks'. this may sound like nothing, but the designer should get a
knighthood due to the fact I had absolutely NO blisters to speak of.
around this time, the weather turned even more miserable and walking
through this long grass wasn't doing much too boost my spirits. I
foolishly thought getting back on the roads was gonna be easier, but
when faced with straight roads that stretch over 4 miles without a
feature or interesting change, it becomes a mental battle in not
becoming bored beyond help.
after a further couple if hours of preventing madness setting in (more
than it had already), I arrived at the outskirts of Street. my route
had pointed me towards a possibly b&b, but to save money I was aiming
for a campsite to the west.
I explained what I was doing as the bitter old crow who ran the site
opened the door, but unfortunately she didn't have a caring bone in
her body so I set up and headed for the local.
seeing it was closed, I headed to the next pub I came across and was
glad I did. as I opened the rediculously small door, I had to stoop to
get anywhere near the bar and was instantly hit by a tide of sound.
about 8 to 10 older gents and ladies were smashing out some classic
beach boys tracks that in seconds turned into beatles songs due to
them forgetting the words.
it was a fantastic atmosphere as I enjoyed being the stranger in the
pub, overlooking what to them was run of the mill but to me was a
priceless change from the wet grass, bulls and painful goolies.
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