Resisting the lure of the fairie lights, we escaped the Moss and arrived safely in Nantwich. Refreshing ourselves in a pub, we risked life and limb sampling jalapeno flavoured pork scratchings. Perhaps something to try once. And definitely with beer.
I began reading Matthew Hollis’ excellent Now All Roads Lead to France: The Last Years of Edward Thomas:
and I rose up, and knew that I was tired, and continued my journey
After a meal and exploring the town, we retired to our room. Somehow we found ourselves watching a reality programme about French Foreign Legion training as we drifted off to sleep. The next day was to be a long one, and we found very small Legionnaire NCO’s on our shoulders insulting us in cod French if we slacked. Fortunately for everyone in Cheshire, the marching songs had not penetrated far enough into consciousness for us to remember them.
After some sleep and fortified by a breakfast of even greater size than the one pictured outside the pub, we set off. We had one day to get to Chester. The Two Saints Way route was well over 25 miles, so we decided to try the more direct line of the Shropshire Union Canal and see how far we got. We would do our best to get to Chester.
It was a great day to be walking along the canal which gave varied views. We pressed on, stopping occasionally for an ice cream, a pint, a sandwich.
In late afternoon, we ran out of time. We’d walked near enough 19 miles and Mark had to be home. We called a taxi to take us the few miles into Chester. A pilgrimage where we didn’t quite reach our goal, but memorable and I feel much better for it.
Here’s to next time.
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