Day 1 - A train journey to Knighton

 

I’m not sure where the interest came from but I’ve long been interested in country walking.  I love to get out in the countryside and get some fresh air in my lungs, enjoy some views and fanny about with my camera trying to get one shot I’m pleased with.  Also, ever since I knew that they existed I’ve wanted to walk national trails.  When I was twenty nine my former spouse and I attempted The Peddar’s way in Norfolk.  We had trained and prepared and had good boots, gaiters, waterproofs and all of the equipment you could need but, even though it was August, it rained relentlessly from the moment we began.  This meant that there was no resting to take in the view or drink or eat.  Each day consisted of nothing but relentlessly knocking out the miles with our heads down.  Not even the most effective waterproofs remain waterproof for the entire day.  It was a miserable experience.  I forget quite what her ailment was but the former Mrs Bodger was struggling a great deal and so after completing two fifths of the walk we headed home.  I would have carried on because, despite the rain and some aches and pains myself, I viewed it as an adventure but out of loyalty to her I went home too.  I/we said there would be another attempt at a long distance walk soon but there wasn’t one for years.  Six years after the incomplete Peddar’s Way and when there was no longer a Mrs Bodger I walked the South Wolds Way during a pleasantly mild seven days in December.  I vowed to do more but once again another six years have passed. 

I’m about to walk Glyndŵr’s Way.  This hasn’t been months in the planning.  It was only three weeks ago that Marianna suggested I do a walk.  I might normally have said that we couldn’t afford it or that I had work to do but I just said “okay” and organised it.  I chose Glyndŵr’s Way purely by looking at the list of The National Walks on a website and choosing the first one that was over one hundred miles in length and wasn’t closed for the winter as many of them were.

This morning I took the 11.22 train from Leamington Spa to Birmingham Moor Street.  It was standing room only on the train with lots of people heading into the city for Christmas shopping.  From Moor Street I had to make the short walk to New Street station, dodging shoppers and probably knocking several flying with my rucksack.  I certainly didn’t feel the anonymity of looking slightly like a homeless person that I often felt if I wandered into a town when walking the South Wolds Way.  Although I felt the need I didn’t/couldn’t use the toilets at Birmingham New Street station.  They charge you to deposit your waste there and you have to put 30p into a slot and then go through a turnstile.  The turnstile is so narrow it prevents anyone with luggage or hips from entering.  I was next travelling with Welsh Trains to Shrewsbury.  I had reserved seats for the journey but the hatred that the Welsh and their language have for vowels is such that they hadn’t labelled the carriages and Coach A wasn’t to be found.  This was fine though since there were very few people heading into Wales.  At Wolverhampton a young man got on, and felt the need to sit near me, who was carrying the aroma my walking boots would have if I spent a year walking through a swamp.  I had a forty minute wait at Shrewsbury station and arrived in Knighton, where the walk begins, at 14.56. 

If you know me you’ll know I don’t like to be too far from a duvet and hot shower.  This isn’t a camping holiday, it’s a walking holiday, so when I arrived in Knighton I headed for The George and Dragon pub rather than a campsite.  Knighton is right on the English/Welsh border.  When the driver applied the train’s brakes he was still in England......England....England..England.WALES!!  If you walk a few dozen steps away from the town as you leave the station you’re back in England but I didn’t, I headed into town.  I walked past ‘The Table Football Shop’ and easily found The George and Dragon pub.  Yes, that’s right, a whole shop dedicated solely to Subbuteo and that other one where you stand at the side of a table and twizzle the players left and right.  It’s a strange idea for a shop and this remote town is an even stranger place to have it. 

When I arrived at The George and Dragon to check into my accommodation the bar was full of red shirted men watching Wales play Australia at rugby.  Yep, I’d definitely crossed the border.  I then went to find the Offas’s Dyke Centre.  Waiting for me there was my guide book for the walk.  I had ordered one online when I first organised the walk but got a message eight days ago that my suppliers were out of stock.  I ordered one from Amazon but after indicating that it would be with me by today an email followed a day later telling me they would be delivering it to me mid-December.  Slight panic.  So, I was fully prepared apart from knowing where I was walking except that I’d start in Knighton and end in Welshpool 136 miles later.  However, I’d had the bright idea of contacting the Offa’s Dyke Centre who had a copy of a different guide book and agreed to put their only copy to one side for me.  The Amazon order arrived on Thursday but I still collected the one from the centre.  I then had a brief wander around the town.  It’s the sort of small town you find a lot of in Sussex; you can buy a mandolin, some antique furniture and some lovely crockery but can’t buy petrol and may struggle to get a pint of milk.  But I love tiny towns which won’t have famous chain stores but will have So and So and son of This Town established a long time ago.  I then retreated to my converted stable room behind The George and Dragon.  I quite like that there’s no internet or mobile signal here, although if I get lost over the next few days that aspect will be far from amusing.  I have a new mp3 player to entertain me, protein bars, the right clothing for walking, guidance on stretches for my legs and hips each day and a whole hospital’s worth of blister creams and plasters.  I know I’m under prepared physically but I’m more excited about doing this than I have been about doing anything in a long while.  Tomorrow I’ll take the first step of my 136 miles.         

Washing Machine

We've finally bought a washing machine. The days of Febrezing each other before leaving the house are over.

Curtains

We now have curtains in every room except for the kitchen and sitting room. I thought the house would feel more finished when it was curtained but it doesn't. Perhaps that feeling will come when the constant stream of tradesman coming and going through the house ends.  

Steppin' Out

There have been changes, both personally and with regards to the house. Most importantly and significantly for me my workload has reduced to that of the average working person rather than that of several people. Where once I had a ‘Things to do’ list dating back generations and longer than a queue of people wanting to punch Piers Morgan I am now so up to date I have no list at all. Having completed her thesis and been awarded a Phd Marianna has experienced a similar reduction in work and stress. Towards the end of last year I visited one of our tradesmen on a Sunday morning to pay them and as I approached their house I could see them in their front room reading a newspaper and their daughter seated nearby reading a book. It had become the stuff of fantasy that people did such relaxing things between 5pm on Friday and 9am on Monday. I was tempted to ask to stay. For well over a year there has been no difference between Tuesday and Sunday and 3pm and 3am because at any of these times I could be working but now a separation between work and free time has appeared and I am very grateful for this. I’m making good use of it and have already attended Buddhist meditation classes, a film club, book club, have returned to watching Leamington Town FC and have been on several walks in the Warwickshire countryside. When they reconvene in September after their summer break I’ll pay at least one visit to Warwick Folk Club too. When I told someone about my sudden explosion of social activity this week their response was “What next, Patrick? Glee Club?”.


The outside of the house has been rendered and painted which is a huge improvement on the chipboard covering the lower half of the bay windows and the house looks increasingly finished. To complete the outside a new driveway and garage door are needed. Marianna contacted a local builder to provide a quote for the driveway and a patio at the rear. The name of his company adorned his vehicle and clothing which often indicates that he may be charging more than the norm and his complimentary comments on our front door, kitchen (a space so large the curvature of the planet is visible) and glass banisters indicated that he believed us to be much richer than we are. Still, his quote for £19,500 for a few dozen paving slabs induced more than a curled lip on my part. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to him since having made a mess of such projects myself I know that these things can be difficult but not as difficult as surgery or naming a kitten. So, we used Mybuilder.co.uk to generate quotes for the work. I may be wrong but the website works like this.....Advertise the work you want doing......a dozen people reply with estimated quotes......you contact them and ask them to visit so they can make a formal quote....only two people turn up....of those two one is a pikey and the other promises to call with his formal quote but doesn’t.....you tell the pikey you’ll give him a call....you don’t.

Dan, Max’s carpenter, spent a couple of Saturdays with us and constructed some lovely, slightly quirky shelves in the front and back rooms. This prompted the opening of boxes which had mostly been filled in mid 2008 and the placing of books and CD’s and records on the shelves. When everything was in place an orgy of self-congratulation began. I’m bemused that a number of my albums appear to be missing; the entire Eagles cannon, ‘Songs in the key of life’ by Stevie Wonder, ‘Music from Big Pink’ by The Band, ‘Night People’ by Classix Nouveaux, a Best of Jim Croce, some original pressings by Nat King Cole, Burt Bacharach and Shirley Bassey and possibly some others. I know I sold some a few years ago (largely Elton John) but not these. Since the start of 2005 I’ve called eight different properties home so it hasn’t always been easy to keep track of things. If you’re related to me perhaps you’d be good enough to check your attic.

In other news.....Martin, the neighbour whose name is never spoken within these walls, is in the process of turning his garden shed into a summer house. It’s been pained a sort of green colour and there are blinds at the window. I suspect he’ll be moving into it soon.

Cliffhanger

         There has been progress in the past two weeks.  Last week Max’s carpenter returned to hang the doors from the kitchen to the hall and from the kitchen into the garage and affix the skirting boards.  This week the decorators have returned to paint the kitchen most of which only had one coat of paint when they left us in December.  Most importantly, we now have a handrail and banister for the stairs.  The risk of suddenly falling from the first to ground floor for those not paying attention has been eradicated.  This also means that when my parents next visit they’ll have something to hold onto and won’t have to ascend the stairs on their hands and knees.

A New Leak

Deep joy. Another stain on another ceiling has revealed another leak. This one is coming from the front bathroom. Removing the panel on the bath has only revealed that it’s coming from one of pipes for the bath or the shower which we’d guessed before removing it. However, exactly which pipe is harder to determine. We will call upon Pete to return and investigate why his work is going wrong so soon and in the meantime use the en-suite shower which, for me, is the size of a soda stream.

Blow Away

It seems to have been raining at a Biblical level for the past day and a half. I was considering building an ark and filling it with two of each type of bikini model the country has to offer. How hard has it been raining?? Hard enough to stop our doorbell from working, that’s how hard.

Anyway, we have a leak in the roof and small mustard coloured patch has appeared in the ceiling on the top floor. I’ve stood across the road from the house and can see that there is a tile that has slipped out of place. It is located by the chimney and an area of the roof and, indeed, the house which must be the only bit of the property which hasn’t been touched by a tradesman in the past two years. It never rains but it pours.