That Walk E-Book

Geoffrey Peyton

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

This intended trip was to attempt a very long walk along the Lincolnshire Coastline at an area near Cleethorpes. Whether or not I complete it, you will have to read and find out. These lines are more for the lover of a little memoir reading and a spot of humour.

Leseprobe

Geoffrey Peyton

That Walk

This is dedicated purely to myself, because if it wasn't for me, this trip would never have been accomplished. BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

That Walk

This is the fourth time that Cleethorpes has had the fortune to receive my presence. The three prior visits were strictly golf intended followed by alcohol abuse and the morning afterwards scenario. On each of the previous visits I was somewhat chaperoned, but now I am here solo with the intent on exploring the Lincolnshire Coastline by means of feet only; no transport. The only seated travelling I shall participate in will be the 100 mile or so each way journey from and back to Birmingham via train. Also I intend to collect any historical (if any) facts that I ignored on earlier visits. My main objective on this trip however, is to do what has come naturally throughout my life, and that is to walk, walk, and walk.

“You’re still middle aged”, my mother told me when I visited her the night before I was due to leave, but that is simply not the case.

If I am fifty years old and middle aged; that must include that living to the age of one hundred as an acceptable possibility, but I somehow doubt it. But life must go on (what’s left of it); I have an appointment with those lovely receptionists at Thorpe Park, Cleethorpes.

In a March week prior to this trip, England became engulfed in a mini heatwave which was unusual for this particular time of the year. Temperatures soared to 18 degrees celsius. However, those temperatures evaporated by the time Geoffrey Peyton exited his front door in Birmingham that week. But at least the forecast of rain was slight, but they do predict a wind chill of annoyance for the next few days, making perfect rambling weather.

Although the thermometer read smaller digits, the day’s weather forecast was respectable. A gentle two mile stroll to the train station near my home in Birmingham killed an hour. By the time I had arrived, the proletarians lined the platform in their troves, ready to make a charge through the automatic doors to grab suitable seating, but I did not join them. In fact I sat on a wall outside the station for the best part of an hour sipping tea. I required the 9.34am to New Street Station, as it was the start of the off peak fares, a saving of twenty pounds.

So with a small holdall on my back containing my world, I prepared myself for the four hour jaunt to the sunny flat sands of the Lincolnshire coast.

£46.70p return constitutes three trains. I needed to change at Doncaster after New Street so I checked the timetable. I required the 10.30am Newcastle bound, which leaves me twenty five minutes to wander about, maybe purchase a newspaper to keep me occupied for what will be a ninety minute haul.

There were very few people on platform 6, but the train itself was almost full, leaving me certitude in finding a sufficient ‘chaise longue’ in which to park my butt. Most of the seats were reserved until either Derby or Sheffield. I selected one of the latter which would probably take over an hour, giving me plenty of time to whip out my laptop and indulge in a little writing. All seemed very rosy seconds before take-off. That was until a young Italian/Spanish looking chap managed, just in time, to whisk himself through the closing doors as the beeps sounded for last chance boarding. I settled into position, interlocked my fingers, and gave them an almighty crack. I am ready for a chapter or two.