DAY THREE: Chipping Norton to Woodstock

On Sunday evening, I was joined by Charles "Chuck" Houston III, Steve "Biketails" Taylor and Dave "F&B Guy" Rock, all from New Hampshire, USA, and Richard "Dickie" Hough, from my home county of Staffordshire.

Now, there's a bit of a story behind our unlikely friendship with Chuck & Steve (Harvard University & Artisan, respectively) which involves Richard and me directing these clowns off the Old Man of Stor mountain on the Isle of Skye off the west coast of Scotland, a happen-chance meeting in the only pub on the island that evening, an evening of excessive drinking fueled by transatlantic, bipartisan appreciation for all things mountainous and a subsequent evening of intoxicating debauchery one week later in the famed "Doctors" pub on the fringe of Edinburgh University medical school. I will never tell that story, but you can join the dots. That was 14 years years ago. I don't know what innate hunting skills these natives of New Hampshire were born with, but I haven't been able to shake these guys off since!

After Dave "the food and beverage (F&B) guy" was summarily dispatched to locate the best restaurant and watering hole at our final destination, Chuck, Steve, Richard and I set off at 10am under a perfectly blue sky. I had chosen to invite them on this particular stage of the walk because the map had promised a day of tiny hamlets, rolling landscapes and majestic manor houses. And boy oh boy did it deliver!


The vast majority of the contents of my rucksack had been thrown in the back of the F&B guy's hire car, so it was considerably lighter; and much to my delight, Chuck heroically volunteered to lug it for the day. Music to my heavily blistered shoulders. Walking without the leviathan of 34 pounds was a liberating feeling.


Walking through Glyme Farm and on to Chalford, we came across the first of many spectacularly beautiful tiny hamlets made up of exceedingly old cottages and "quaint" churches. Black swans adorned the village pond and the sound of a watermill added to the atmosphere of the dingly-dell, nestled in its valley.





Then east to Lidstone, bedecked in summer flowers, where we enjoyed our sandwiches overlooking thatched cottages and watching a series of classic '30's and '40's cars stream by on their way to or from a rally.


At Clevely, we walked through a mystical wood, the sun streaming through fine green leaves onto a lush carpet of woodland flowers. It had all the qualities of a Lord of the Rings scene, except the elves (or at least we couldn't see them). A few miles over open farmland lead us to Ditchly Park, one of the most imposing and majestic country estates I have ever seen. We walked into the estate and noticed that the rows of ancient oak trees created tunnel-like avenues almost half a mile long in the shape of an enormous cross. The house, a palacial, almost presidential mansion, dominated the scene at the top of the biggest avenue. Even the killer cows that roamed the adjacent fields were pretty (for natural born killers, that is).





For the next three miles, we walked through Kings Wood and Wooton Wood along paths that had clearly been trodden for hundreds, if not thousands of years. For the first time on this walk, I actually felt like we could be on the route that Shakespeare himself could have taken four hundred years ago. We all commented that it was hard going to follow the trail, but it must have been a herculean effort to travel the distance from Stratford to London in thin leather boots without modern day soles, never mind the heavy clothing and such like.


During the afternoon, our vista was made all the more dramatic by huge cumulus clouds that lazily drifted along the sky in 'streets'.


Finally, we reached the grounds of Blenheim Palace, the birthplace of another titan of British history -- Winston Churchill. If Ditchley house was spectacular, Blenheim Palace is mind blowing. My pictures don't do it any justice at all, so click this link to visit the official site. It makes Buckingham Palace look like it was thrown up in the 1950's on the cheap by dodgy builders. The F&B guy was to tell us that evening that he had spent an enjoyable afternoon looking around the house and grounds and he thoroughly recommended that everyone should visit it.




The "Victory Column" gave us an easy visual marker for our way out of the estate - so, of course, we got lost. But, thankfully due to our tired legs, it was only a small one and we strolled the remaining mile or so into the quintissentially English town of Woodstock around 5pm, right on time.


During the course of the day, we had munched on raspberries, seen owls, a Roe Deer (thought is was a Muntjack, but not), a poisonous Adder snake, pheasants, black swans and a squished slow worm.


That night, after long hot showers in a splendid B&B, we were shown to our chosen restaurant by the F&B guy for fine dining and refreshment. We all had our deep reservations when we were shown the "Chef Imperial" Chinese restaurant, complete with fading paint and kitsche furniture. But, we had put our trust in the professional and we proceeded to take our table (the best in the house, naturally) for the evening meal. And we were not dissapointed. The F&B guy had indeed found the best place to eat in Woodstock and we enjoyed a thoroughly delicious and very reasonable meal. We salute you, F&B guy!

Sadly, Richard couldn't stop the night and do another day of walking, so we bade him farewell and headed off to our B&B; we were all safely tucked up and dreaming of being Lord of the manor by 10pm, ready for another day tomorrow.

Miles walked 19.71
Time walked: 5.12 hrs
Calories: 1602
Steps: 29412
Weather: Stonking hot all day

DAY TWO: Shipton on Stour to Chipping Norton

Despite the hot confines of the grim pub/hotel room, I slept well. After a hearty English breakfast of deep fried mystery-meat, eggs, stewed tomatoes and a gallon of thick, deep brown tea, I set off at 9am in glorious sunshine.

My feet felt great, but my shoulders were very sore and red because of the weight of my rucksack. The thin t-shirt I wore offered no protection against the shoulder straps and it wasn't long before the irritated skin from the previous day started to turn a deeper shade of angry red.

It was quickly apparent that I was entering the Cotswolds, a region in the heart of England that I would argue is among the most beautiful this little island has to offer. Picture postcard thatched cottages, nook and cranny pubs dating back 600 years and views dominated by arable farming. Walking through this landscape is like being on the sepia movie set of a film in a bygone era. It's old, beautiful and right there waiting for you to walk in it.


With a few miles under my belt, I came across what I had been dreading since I set off; man eating cows. Don't underestimate these beasts. They may seem innocent with their slow munching action, docile expression and comedic methane expulsions. But what lies behind those murderous cold eyes is a driving lust for revenge against mankind for generations of enslavement and humiliation at the cold hands of the milking maid. And when these brutes charge, it's 500 pounds of beef heading your way with only dainty trotters as brakes. Nope, you won't get me within a hundred yards of cows. Luckily for me on this occasion, barbed wire and mines kept them at bay in an adjacent field (it just looks like an innocent fence in the picture).


The first hamlet I came too was Cherington. I emerged from woodland to see that a village fete was being dismantled from the day before. Everyone looked very much the worse for wear, including a few that looked like the hay maze had been their bed for the night. I quickly proceeded on my way because it looked like I may get roped into striking tents and dismantling coconut stands if I dawdled.


Leaving Cherington, the map showed that I had a little pull up into the next stage of my route. It was only a few hundred feet of ascent over a short distance, which is nothing compared to my usual weekend excursions of walking up 3000-4000 feet mountains, but in the midday sun, a heavy rucksack and wearying legs from the day before, that 300 feet felt more like 3000. And it was getting hotter. So hot, in fact, that I realized that my boots were leaving an imprint in the road!! I also realized that I needed to radically increase my intake of liquids in such heat -- probably a contributing factor to the exhaustion I felt after such a girly climb.


But the next few miles were glorious. I walked through deep woods on Redliff Hill, over wheat fields in full growth and through Long Compton Woods into the little village of Long Compton. I stopped here for lunch at a local pub; two pints of shandy and a tasty pie put the wind back into my sails. I think my bear feet and steamy socks put the people next to me off their Sunday lunch, but it had to be done.

As the afternoon wore on, it got hotter and hotter. I later discovered that it reached 34 degrees that day. The vistas continued to stop me in my tracks, but my thoughts were becoming dominated by the increasing pain from my shoulders and, due to a stupid jump over a little brook and the badly judged landing on slippery mud, my right knee was beginning to ache rather badly.


But the pains were temporarily forgotten as I came across the delightful little hamlet of Little Rollright. Three grand homes surrounded a 14th century church, all of which was nestled in a valley that looked more in keeping with Nappa Valley in California than middle-England. After another quick drink stop, I continued to stomp out the remaining few miles of the day through fields of corn into Chipping Norton.


Chipping Norton is an attractive town of large, Edwardian (or is it Georgian?) style five story buildings built in light colored stone that cut a very grand, imposing figure. The pub didn't have any record of my reservation, which was going to be a real problem in a busy tourist destination, especially with three Americans joining me that night. I didn't have the energy to complain, so I just ordered a large cold one and told the lady that I'd be outside while she worked out what to do with us. It worked to our advantage - we got a house to ourselves for the evening at a bargain basement rate.


All that was left to do was soak in a long, hot bath, do my laundry and sit on the enormous bed with two bags of frozen peas on my knee and shoulder. This was the sight that greeted my friends from the U.S.! And so the night began.......

Miles Walked: 16.52
Steps: 29,558
Time Walking: 5hrs 8mins
Calories: 1343
Weather: Blisteringly hot!

(Regarding the pictures: double click to enlarge so that you can see them better)

DAY ONE (of the walk): Stratford upon Avon to Shipston on Stour

It has taken me ages to organize the photos and my notes, and work has kept me occupied morning, noon and night for the past three weeks. But now, finally, all my pictures are safely loaded on the new machine and I'm going to share my pictures and tales from the walk in numbing detail, one day at a time! Think yourself lucky that I haven't come to your house with my 605 slides and projector!

Saturday August 4th was the big day; the start of my 146 mile cross-country trek from the birthplace of Shakespeare to his first theater called the Globe nestled on the South Bank of the River Thames in London. I had spent four months preparing ten ordnance survey 1:25000 maps, highlighting in every detail the route that I would follow. Less than 5 miles of the entire route would be on road; the rest would use ancient footpaths and bridle ways.

The night before, I checked and re-checked my pack to make sure I had what I needed -- and nothing more -- for the next nine days. I planned to wash the clothes I wore each day and dry them at night, reducing the need to take multiple items of clothing. Sadly, the weather in the weeks before the walk had been terrible; the most rainfall in England since records began in 1766. This meant my rucksack was further burdened with waterproof kit. All together, even though I worked hard to keep the weight down, my pack weighed in at a portly 34+ pounds. Ouch.

The morning of the first day broke fine. No sun, but not raining. I remember thinking that I'd be grateful if I just got the first hour completed without getting wet to the skin.

K, B and H got up early with me and we walked together to the birthplace of Shakespeare, a rather ordinary looking 16th century house in the center of Stratford. It stands out from the other buildings now because of centuries of redevelopment all around. But at least it still stands, which is more than can be said for the house Shakespeare inhabited for the majority of his life, which is two streets from our house. A vicar bought Shakespeare's house in the late 17th century and, consumed with raging anger at the growing number of tourists that came to pay homage at the great bard's home, he burnt it to the ground shortly thereafter! All that remains is a spectacular garden with a plaque to state that the house once stood there.

I digress.


After hugs and kisses goodbye (a grunt from B who was still half-asleep and complaining at the distinct lack of Cheerio's), I walked back the way I had come, past our house and, in the words of my childhood hero, the explorer Shackleton, I relished the thought of nine days walking "south, always south", for the next 146 miles.


The first day consisted of walking 17 miles to a town called Shipston on Stour. Leaving Stratford, it was only half a mile before I was in open countryside, the spire of Holy Trinity Church visible on the horizon behind me. After two miles, I reached the first of many hamlets that I would walk through along the route; Clifford Chambers. It consisted of a pretty 13th century church, six Edwardian houses, a grand villa and the best conker tree in Warwickshire. I marked it on the map for the years to come when B needs a monster conker to dual his friends at school.

Heading for the next town called Atherstone over open fields, I came across Taton House. This would also be one of many private country estates that I would trespass (quite legally) along the route. It's incredible to think that the "Pride & Prejudice" life is still being lived - with great opulence - in the heart of the country during the 21st century.


I enjoyed my packed lunch (the best of the walk, thanks to K's prodigious picnic skills) sitting between two ancient oak trees in the center of a field that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. By midday, the sun had come out, I had caught the sun and I was 10 miles from Stratford.


After lunch, I saw the first example of the very distinctive Cotwold stone in a pretty hamlet called Halford. Sadly, many of the homes had fallen victim to the terrible flooding that had swept the county in the previous month. The grass verges were littered with piles of "white goods"; fridges, washing machines, freezers, ovens and kitchen units, topped off with carpets, sofas and all sundry of soaking wet rugs and random furniture. It looked like a war scene, except the buildings still stood. Only under close inspection could you see that the bottom rows of bricks in the walls of the houses were a darker shade than the rest; evidence that the water had risen many feet and silently wrecked the homes of thousands of people.


A few miles south, the fields of grain and wheat were as flat as a pancake. Hundreds, if not thousands, of acres of crops had been destroyed by the force and flow of the flood water. Fences had been washed away, gates buckled beyond recognition and tons of hay and wheat deposited in trees, which gave the impression that a tornado had swept it up and tried to recreate surreal palm trees in the middle of rural England. Only the toughest metal gates survived, like the one pictured below. The huge pile of logs and debris behind it was swept more than twelve feet higher than the level of the river when I walked along side it two weeks later.


I continued the walk over open countryside; basically, farmers fields with a right of way through it. I was getting a taste of the magnificant views to come; uninterupted 30 mile landscapes in all directions under endless blue skies dotted with dramatic cumulus humilis and mediocris clouds. Not a car, person or computer in sight - pure bliss!


The last mile followed the busy A3400 into Shipstone because the route I had planned was still flooded. I hoped that conditions under foot would improve over the coming days, not deteriorate the further south I went. I checked into my pub/hotel for the night at 3pm, a lot earlier than I had planned. This was mainly because the pace I had set during the day was only just short of a jog! The excitment of starting the walk had meant that I sprinted through the first day. This was to spell bad news the following day, because the heat , my heavy sack and virgin legs and shoulders were screaming for a pint of cold lager shandy and a rest by the time I reached my final destination. I'd ache badly the following day!


After writing up my journal, chowing down on the local fish and chips and doing my washing in the decidedly hot, dinghy bedroom of the pub/hotel, I was safely in bed listening to John Coltrane on my iPod and examining the route for the following day by 8pm. I was out for the count by 9pm, a trend set to continue for the subsequent eight days.

Miles walked: 16.88
Time spent walking: 4hrs 50 mins
Steps: 30191
Calories: 1372
Weather: cloudy a.m., sunny & hot p.m.

RIP Blog?

We made a fatal mistake at the weekend.... we popped into our favourite computer store (because of my job in the tech industry, I can't plug them, but you know who I mean) to see what the big daddy, new sparkly version of our current sick computer looked like..... and walked out with it, a whole lot poorer for the pleasure. We just couldn't leave the store without bringing it home with me.

So, I now have the means to update my blog with tales and pictures from the walk. However, this new machine has a bundle of uber-cool software and online gubbins that makes web publishing a lot easier and quicker for me and a lot better to read/view for friends and family. I'm going to play around with it at the weekend to see if it's better than blogger - the demo blew me away.

Disasters come in 3's

I still haven't updated my blog with photos and tales from my recent walk because of a massive technology failure in the house of Redneps.

First, my Leica digital camera screen shattered, which means that it is now somewhere in deepest Germany being repaired by a very professional (and no doubt expensive) technician. Second, the day after I downloaded all 605 X 6 mega pixel photographs from the trek onto our computer at home, it crashed and died. No surprise, eh? Luckily, I have them backed up safely in two places, but I can't access them until we decide whether to repair it or bite the bullet and get a new one. So, until we get this little conundrum sorted out, the blog is going to suffer.

Oh, and the third disaster was that my cherished walking/climbing boots fell to pieces five days into the walk. They are only five years old, which may seem like a long time, but they are only used 5+ weekends a year for climbing, which means they have only been worn for about 50 days. Considering the effusive claims of the highly respected manufacturer, Meindl (I'm beginning to realise that all my technical stuff, from car to camera to climbing equipment is built by the Germans!), and the fact that they originally cost the earth, I'm hoping for a positive response to the evaluation they are currently undergoing (also) in Germany.

Stratford on Avon to London: DONE!

I want to let my sponsors know that I have earned my money! On Sunday, I completed the walk from Stratford on Avon to London on schedule; 146 miles over open countryside in nine days (actually, 8.5 days). I have 605 photographs and a journal full of notes to sort through, but I will abbreviate them for the blog in the coming week. In the meantime, here's a picture of the finish line at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre on the Thames with my coach on my shoulders.

At the Start

Here I am at mile 0 of 146 early on Saturday morning, outside the birthplace of William Shakespeare in Stratford upon Avon...... next stop, Shipston on Stour 17 miles south.

The route I will follow for the next nine days is detailed in a previous post below.

The time has come

Tomorrow morning at 8am, I finally begin "the walk".... 146 miles from Stratford upon Avon to London in nine days, raising funds for the Shakespeare Hospice.

As you'll see from the box on the right, we (you!) have raised more than £1400, but the actual total is £2,628.89 which accounts for the £1,000 donated by my company and a few off-line sponsorships. I'm humbled by the incredible generosity of my friends and colleagues all around the world.

If you have not yet sponsored me, don't worry!! You still can!! Please click the link -- every penny counts.

I will not be updating my blog along the way because a) I want to get as far away as humanly possible from any personal computing device b) there is a distinct lack of internet cafes in the middle of the countryside. I will, however, update the blog in glorious detail once I return to civilisation.

Now the only thing left to do is get those boots on and get walking.........

The Kit (and a competition!)

At the weekend, I pulled together my kit for the walk. I started by gathering everything I would like to take. That created a pile of stuff that Hercules himself could not have lifted. I then sorted through the original pile to create a new one that only contained the stuff I needed. It was still too much. So I sacrificed everything but essentials to create the final kit list, captured in this picture. It all fits snugly in my trusty sack from New Zealand, also pictured here. It weighs 12kg without food/water for one day, 14kg with (30lbs). It's a little heavier than I would like, but I can't get it any lighter.

The plan is to only have two sets of clothes -- one to wear each the day, wash that evening and dry overnight, with a clean set to change into each evening and wear the subsequent day (hence the clothes line and pegs). I have to take walking trousers plus waterproof jacket/trousers due to the extremes of weather we have experienced in the past few months. I'll be taking a sun hat too, but I'm not counting on using it!

I have bought a little pedometer to take along with me. It measures the number of steps, calories burnt, distance walked and time spent walking. I'll be taking note of each of these metrics at the end of each day and I'll total up all the figures at the end. I'm thinking this would make for a good competition (for the sad people in my life) -- so guess the total number of steps, calories and time spent walking at the end of the entire trek (except mileage, which should be 146 miles). If you'd like to guess, email me directly with your best guesstimate. I'll publish the winners at the end.

Can I Borrow A Kayak?

I have discovered that the route of my walk will, sadly, follow the exact line of some of the worst flooding seen in the past week.

As this image from the BBC shows, I'll be walking from near the spot that says "Warwickshire" down to Oxford, across to Marlow, Windsor and then into London. The vast majority of the walk is through open countryside, which is mostly under 5ft+ of water. The environment agency expect the flood water to take at least one week to disperse, so it's touch and go whether large sections of the route will still be submerged when I start next week.

There's no question of postponing the walk, so I guess I'll just need to adapt the route when I hit an obstacle. It certainly seems like I'm going to work a little harder to earn all that sponsorship money (there's still time to sponsor me -- please click this link!). It's rather bad luck that I choose to do this walk after the worst flooding in 15o years and during the wettest summer since records began in 1766 -- but good luck, I suppose, that I didn't plan to do it this week!

Stratford UNDER Avon: The Flood

In the past twenty four hours, two months worth of rain has fallen in the UK. The Met office said "it was the worst deluge in living memory". Here in Warwickshire, one of the worst affected counties, many towns are totally submerged under many feet of water and roads in/out are impassable. These pictures of Warwickshire and Gloucestershire (Cotswolds) give a sense of the floods. The cost of the floods? 2 billion!

Stratford has been hard hit too. The River Avon, which runs through the center of town, broke its banks yesterday afternoon and rose more than 5 feet. The flooding caused a lot of damage to the town alongside the banks and the theatres are closed. Luckily, even though we live very near to the river in the center of town, we are on a slightly higher level.... however, that didn't stop us looking at the river and worrying that all our recent building work would have an unwelcome water feature running through it! The pictures show how the town was transformed into one great lake. Hobbes had a great time swimming in it though, of course!

My drive home from work last night was more brutal than normal. The usual 1.5 hour trip took four hours because the main motorway (M40) was under water, so I weaved north on tiny roads through towns in Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. Some poor folks had been stranded on the M5 for 15 hours. Most main roads were closed at multiple points, so it was a case of just pot-luck to see if I could get through the Cotswolds to Stratford or not. I finally got home to find my sister in law and her little boy, B & N, taking refuge at our house because their home just outside Warwick was completely cut off.

But every "cumulonimbus calvus" has a sliver lining. The torrential rain and road closures meant that Stratford was relatively quiet for........ the release of the last Harry Potter book! Yes, despite the horid drive home and being up for 22 hours, I was there in the queue at midnight to collect my copy. Those of us that braved the weather for our copies last night can confidently call ourselves true Potter fans!

The Route

As "the walk" rapidly approaches, I have worked out each stage of the walk. Here it is. I have decided to start one day later (Saturday rather than Friday) to accommodate three American friends flying in to join me for a few days. Distances are "miles from Stratford".

Saturday August 4: Stratford to Shipstone (17 miles)
Sunday August 5: Shipstone to Chipping Norton (31 miles)
Monday August 6: Chipping Norton to Woodstock (47 miles)
Tuesday August 7: Woodstock to Toot Baldon (65 miles)
Wednesday August 8: Toot Baldon to Cookley Green (81 miles)
Thursday August 9: Cookley Green to Bourne End (99 miles)
Friday August 10: Bourne End to Iver (116 miles)
Saturday August 11: Iver to Kew Bridge (130 miles)
Sunday August 12: Kew Bridge to Globe Theatre, London (146 miles... phew)

For the Chop

Not that anyone but the residents of our little street in the center of Stratford cares, but today a landmark tree was cut down because of trumped up health and safety concerns from a nanny-state local council. OK, I'll come off the fence and say that anyone with an ounce of brain matter knows it doesn't make sense to cut down trees just for the hell of it. Sadly, Stratford Upon Avon council thinks differently, and it has caused quite a stir in our local community, as this story shows.

Here's the chronology of death for a beautiful old silver birch tree. Not sure how they'll remove the body that they have so gamely painted orange.

Rowayton, Connecticut, US

After an intense few days of back to back meetings in Connecticut, I escaped the office with my boss for a well deserved dinner and large glass of wine. We eat at the Rowayton Seafood Restaurant, nestled on the banks of the Long Island Sound. If you ever wanted to see picture-postcard America, this town and restaurant are a slice of genuine East Coast, blue blooded Americana. And the food was as good as the views!

Hidcote Manor, Cotswolds

At the weekend, we took "the olds" to the second most spectacular English country garden we know -- Hidcote Manor in the Cotswolds, luckily only 15 minutes from our home. Paradoxically, it was designed by an American called Lawrence Johnston who was born in France and later became a Colonel in the British Army, fighting in the Boer and First World War. In between world travels and battles, he managed to design this gorgeous garden. Its now a National Trust property and a day walking through the intricate and densly populated gardens-within-a-garden design leaves one speechless. It's even a great day out for kids, because there are plenty of places to run and lots of nooks to explore.

Here's just a couple of pics, but they don't even come close to capturing the subtle beauty of this garden in summer.

Oh, and THE most spectacular English country garden? It has to be "The Lost Gardens of Heligan" in Cornwall, of course...........

Tropical Connecticut, US

The bad weather seems to be following me around! After two weeks of torrential rain in the South of France and UK, I arrived in New York to 30 degree heat and pouring rain. It sounds crazy to say, but the humidity was also very high. When I walked out of the airport terminal, not only did I get soaked, but the temperature difference/humidity made my glasses steam up like I had just walked into a sauna. Arriving at my usual hotel in Greenwich, Connecticut (about 40 minutes outside NYC), the climate made the forest in the foyer (pictured here) seem like a tropical jungle.

Keeping up my fitness regime for the upcoming walk, I did my regular run this morning at 6am in the Hyatt gym. I'm no fan of gyms -- in fact, I hate them -- so I thought that an early visit would spare me the embarrassment of other "fitter" Americans outpacing me on the adjoining treadmill. In fact, the gym was packed and, judging by the rather thick atmosphere in the very confined space, it had been sweating the stress out of a quite a few corporate animals for many hours already.

The one treat at the end of my run -- iced towels!! Yep, the towels were doused in water and then stuck in the fridge at a low temperature. Oh, the bliss.

Huge Thanks to Early Sponsors

After just three weeks and only one begging email, my friends, family and colleagues have donated nearly 900 pounds to the Shakespeare Hospice. Incredible! I want to thank everyone who has sponsored me so far and remind you that your donation has been doubled by my company -- which means that one month before I start "the walk" we have raised nearly 2000 pounds (that's US$4000)!!!

Every single penny you have donated will make a huge difference to people as they end their life at home with the professional support of the staff at the Shakespeare Hospice.

I have also got something out of this walk already -- the realisation that I have such generous and supportive people all around me. My sincere thanks to those of you who have taken the time to donate -- from as far away as the USA (California, New York and Connecticut), The Bahamas, Trinidad & Tobago, Hong Kong, Australia, South Africa, Sweden, Finland and, of course, all over the UK.

If you haven't already visited my sponsorship web site (see link on right or click here), please do!! Or if you'd like to find out more about the Shakespeare Hospice or why I'm doing this before you decide to sponsor me, please don't hesitate to email/call me.

South of France

We spent last week in the South of France in a delightful house near the village of Najac in the Aveyron valley. It's a gorgeous, rural and unspoilt area of the country. Sadly though, we did not escape the terrible weather that has plagued Northern Europe for the past few weeks. We saw a lot -- and I mean a lot -- of rain last week and it was pretty cold on occassions. The poor weather didn't stop us enjoying ourselves though.

We visited the incredible new viaduct at Millau designed by British architect Sir Norman Foster, the tallest vehicular bridge in the world. Probably not surprisingly, the French seem to have neglected to highhlight that this spectactular bridge was designed by a Brit -- and the English are rather miffed that the French could build it so perfectly without a ten year delay.

We also explored a few beautiful local towns such as San Antonin and bored the pants off B with tours of ruined castles and chateaus. We did get one day of good weather to enjoy by the pool -- luckily the freezing water shocked my nervous system so much upon diving in that it removed all traces of the cold I had developed in the previous days!

Cumulis Humilis Congestis (?!)

When was the last time that you actually looked up and "saw" clouds? I don't mean just seeing if it was going to rain, but actually took a minute to look at all the different types of clouds in the sky? Think I've finally lost the plot?

As kids, I think we can all remember a time when an afternoon lying on our back and seeing what clouds resembled constituted a perfectly reasonable way to waste time. It was just such a fond and distant memory that came back to me when I came across this book on our recent holiday in Cornwall: The Cloudspotters Guide. As a result of reading it, I now look up in the sky every day to see what's up there (usually while driving, though not recommended) -- and bore senseless my friends with latin names that sound totally made up on the spot such as "Nimbocumulous Opacus" or "Stratus Fractus Translucidous". But I have to admit, if I'm not sure what a particular genus of cloud is that I'm looking at, it does get described as "Man with bird on shoulder" or "dragon eating a car".

You should read this delightful review of the book, and the author, in the Washington Post. And you can learn more by visiting the Cloud Appreciation Society web site. Needless to say, my membership is currently being processed and I hope to sport my saddo t-shirt soon!

The serious outcome of the book is that I will be able to (in a limited way) forecast the weather each day on my fast-approaching walk from Stratford to London. And when I don't have my head in a map navigating the route, I'll enjoy brushing up on my cloud spotting skills.

(I'll use this opportunity to clear my concience and apologise to a colleague at work who I recently bored rigid with talk of cloud varieties on a two hour flight back from Barcelona. Sadly for him, the fasten seat belt sign and a stern BA trolly-dolly prevented his numerous attempts at escaping. Sorry.)

Views along the run

Here's a few pictures that piece together the views along my usual run. It's totally blurred to me because a) I wear thick glasses and I don't run in them b) I'm usually "head down" trying to get to the end. But tonight I took a few pics along the way. The weather was foul, but it gives you an idea.

The run starts with Hobbes setting the pace down the street from our home behind Holy Trinity church to the theatre park by the river Avon (pic 1), through to the Swan Theatre (pic 2), then on to boat basin and over the bridge that overlooks the soon to be renovated Royal Shakespeare Theatre (pic 3), along the other side of the river Avon passing Holy Trinity church again on the right (pic 4) into the final iPod "power song" 1/4 mile stretch back to the house. Phew. Hobbes finds his own way to cool off (pic 5), thanks to our English summer rain.

Holy Trinity church is where William Shakespeare and his family are buried. It attracts about a quarter of a million tourists a year. The scaffolding around the spire (pictured above) has been up for about a year because there is an extensive amount of careful restoration work being done. The church was originally built in the early 13th century -- I guess it's about time it got a new roof.

The Route

At the weekend, I bought the maps to help me plan and navigate the walk. They are illustrated here, from Stratford on the left, through the Cotswolds, Oxford, Chilterns hills and finally London on the right. It's quite a hefty bunch of maps, which got me thinking about the amount of kit I'll need to carry on this journey. I'm already thinking about mailing pre-paid envelopes to the B&B's that I plan to stay at on the route so that I can mail back used maps... hmmm.... maybe I can simply mail back dirty laundry too so that my pack gets lighter the further I go? Wouldn't want to open those jiffy envelopes a week later!

Training for the walk is going well. Three weeks after starting to run again, I have shaved off seven minutes from my original time. I took a GPS with me during my lunchtime run today and recorded the details so that I can see improvements (anyone who works with me will audibly groan that I use metrics in my personal life too!) The stats were grim, but a hell of a lot better than three weeks ago. The GPS told me that my regular run is 1.26 miles long and I ran it today in 13 mins 27 seconds, which is an average of about 5 miles per hour. My fastest speed was 13 miles per hour, which I must confess probably coincided with running past the long queue of female university students waiting for returned tickets to see King Lear outside the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. Needless to say, I probably kept the pace until I turned the thankfully close corner.

Finally, I'm a little closer to my sponsorship target thanks to very first donation coming from Christy in California and, of course, thanks dad! There's a link now on this page to the "just giving" web site -- it's easy for anyone to donate from anywhere in the world.......

Sponsor Me Please!

If you'd like to sponsor my walk from Stratford to London (see below) in aid of the Shakespeare Hospice, you can do it quickly and easily by visiting my "Just Giving" web site with your credit card.

If you are in the UK, the tax man will add 28p to every penny you donate. If you are outside the UK, it's easy to donate with your credit card. My company will match all donations up to a limit of one thousand pounds. So, if I reach my target, we'll donate two thousand pounds to an incredible charity that makes a huge difference to those that need help at the end of their life.

Every penny counts, so please do sponsor me. Go on, be the first!!!

You Lied, Mr Nike Salesman

After a week of running (see previous post), I have shaved a gratifying 90 seconds off my usual run. But no, Mr. all-smiles-and-warm-reassurance-Nike-salesman, the running shoes you sold me have not miraculously transformed my out-of-shape hulk into the guy in your advert overnight. And given the constant embarrassment of puffing and panting past throngs of tourists representing every nation on earth here in my home town, I'll be more than happy with the "skin-deep-look-cool-when-running" you promised me over the "deep-down-working-damn-hard-to-actually-get-fitter" option I'm currently experiencing!

The bottom line? I guess adverts lie. As a man in PR, I find this shocking.

The implied message that I so gladly bought into was that, like the guy in their Nike TV commercial, one day (very soon) I'd throw on my new running shoes and go show off my incredible cardio fitness to admiring onlookers as I pound the city streets. How far from reality am I! But one thing I do agree with -- the influence of the "power track" on your iPod. I have quickly realized that my usual choice of music, jazz, isn't going to help me forget those worsening stomach cramps. Oh no. So I dug out what K affectionately terms "dad rock" ('90's band the"Primal Scream" - quite literally a good choice) and cranked it up loud. Yes, it took my mind off the pain and focused my thoughts better, but it also had another positive benefit; I could no longer hear myself gasping for air.