Hello all
Here's a little bit of fun to get us going. How many steps are there in the picture below?
The answer will be at the end of this blog. No cheating, you will only feel bad about yourself!
Here's a little bit of fun to get us going. How many steps are there in the picture below?
The answer will be at the end of this blog. No cheating, you will only feel bad about yourself!
Today was a momentous day. Having "slept" through probably the coldest night so far on this trip, I awoke to a glorious sunny day with hardly a wisp of a breeze. I had my usual breakfast of three weetabix and very cold milk (it had been outside all night) a cup of tea and a carton of fruit juice to wash down my daily bevvy of tablets.
I attended to my feet - a plaster for my corn (little toe right foot) and a blister plaster for the blister on the fat squodgy bit behind the big toe on the bottom of the right foot. I was not convinced that the blister plaster was going to stay on. Guess what!
By the way - the left foot is great thank-you.
Then I put on my shorts for the first time on this walk. Sun tan lotion was applied to my face and my lily-white legs. I'm quite pleased with my legs at the moment because they are developing into proper walkers legs. But they are also old persons legs and this cannot be denied. What with the almost complete lack of hair and varicose veins, they seem to resemble my dad's legs as I remember them.
I few years ago, when I was still working, two colleagues and I took a group of teenage boys for a canoeing trip. My legs were much as they are now. I was wearing shorts.
One boy said to one of my colleagues in an American accent:
"Hey. Does that guy shave his legs?"
I shall never forget it.
Anyway, by the time I finished the walk today, I was in a lot of pain and hobbling along. I dreaded what I would find when I took off my boots. Well, if I thought I had a blister before, I definitely have one now alright. I'm not sure what to do. But this is what I have done: I washed my foot (actually I washed both of them, I don't like to have favourites). Then I put on a bandage, from my first aid kit, which felt good but is pretty large. I thought I had better test this out so I put on a pair of my best walking socks and squeezed the foot into the walking boots. Then I set off into the strange world of Tintagel in the evening of a bank holiday Sunday. There were plenty of later-day Lancelots , Guineveres, wenches and serfs wandering around, so I decided to have a meal which is as old as time itself - fish and chips. I had them with a cup of tea, which is also traditional.
The experiment with the bandage appeared to be working so I am hopeful that the nine miles which I shall be doing tomorrow will be a little more comfortable than today.
I was happy enough with the feel of my foot, to go back into town and find a pub. I bought a pint and settled myself at a table which was nice a close to a group of Arthurian dress ups. I ear-wigged their conversations, hoping to hear something funny, but all they were talking about was TK Max and comparing some apps on their phones.
It was a lovely pint.
________________________________
Vicki and Tom came to pick me up from Tintagel this morning and Vicki walked with me as far as Boscastle where Tom was waiting for her. It was lovely to chat about all sorts of subjects that are interesting to both Vicki and me and we laughed a lot at funny situations that came to mind.
Earlier I had asked Tom if I could put on the blog the poem which he wrote about my walk. He was happy about this. I have read it a few times now and I definitely like it.
Where's Robbie
Somewhere between his sixty-fourth and his sixty-fifth,
Hurtling towards the latter,
As if time and geography
Did not matter.
On the Jurassic aftermath,
The South West Coastal Path.
And where are we?
We are lost!
We are lost!
In a universe
Ninety three billion light years across!
No Global Positioning System
No Satellite Navigation
For our ultimate destination.
And time is motion and motion time
Through ups and downs and slow declines
We ramble on three score years and ten
To our final step, we don't know when!
And time has worn away our knees, our joints,
Until we ask ourselves, what is the point?
Is it North or South or East or West?
What's it to be? Misery? Happiness?
But where's Robbie?
I hear he can be found,
To or from
Plymouth Sound.
He's discovered himself
Through existential geometry:
By the harsh triangles of the sky and the land and the sea,
And the loving circle of his family.
___________________
Tom McAndrew 2019
Here are some more photos.
 |
| Boscastle Harbour |
 |
| Arthur's Seat |
 |
| My Legs and Me |
_____________________________
Oh yes, the answer to the steps question is 201. No prizes.
Take it easy.
Rob
I knew it was about 200! Here’s Tom’s poem for those without Facebook...
ReplyDeleteWhere’s Robbie ?
By Tom McAndrew
Somewhere between his sixty-fourth and his sixty fifth,
Hurtling towards the latter,
As if time and geography
Did not matter.
On the Jurassic aftermath,
The South West Coastal Path.
And where are we?
We are lost!
We are lost !
In a universe
Ninety three billion light years across!
No Global Positioning System
No Satellite Navigation
For our ultimate destination.
And time is motion and motion time
Through ups and downs and slow declines
We ramble on three score years and ten
To our final step , we don't know when!
And time has worn away our knees, our joints,
Until we ask ourselves, what is the point?
Is it North or South or East or West?
What's it to be ? Misery? Happiness?
But where’s Robbie?
I hear he can be found,
To or from
Plymouth Sound.
He’s discovered himself
Through existential geometry:
By the harsh triangles of the sky and the land and the sea,
And the loving circle of his family.