It’s currently 2am and I’m in the toilet / shower block sitting by the baby-changing mat on a plastic chair, having a break from the unremitting hardness of the ground.

Sure, I have a Karrimat but its principal ‘defence’ against hard ground seems to be a psychological one, like the Emperor and the people in the children’s fairy tale.

I find myself being like the kids in the tale: “The Emperor’s got no clothes on! / “Isn’t that just lying on the ground?” — hence the need for a break!

I’m currently hoping tent will dry in the morning sun before I set off again for Ayr and beyond, today. It rained in the night, but I did not get wet. This is a good tent and I like it a lot. Allegedly it’ll sleep two but you’d have to be mighty close to give it a try!

Breakfast is a Mars bar and a pint of milk.

Approaching Ayr walking north up the beach at present.


It has rained on me a little but I did manage to get the tent dry first. It is ‘fresh’ here, which my dear fiancée might more sensibly call ‘chilly’ but at least it isn’t raining on me now.

Although I didn’t fall over or get sunburned or experience extreme thirst for want of even more water in the heat, in fact today has been one of the hardest days so far. The distance covered has been greater, but at a commensurately higher price on my poor feet.

It’s nearly 11pm and I currently lack the courage to remove the “1000 mile socks” to survey the damage. First World War ‘trench foot’ is my preliminary diagnosis, without an examination. I’d send you pictures but some of you may be eating as you read.

The weather though has been kind, in that a cold spell at lunch aside, the temperature and the precipitation today have been ‘Goldilocks’ – though without the porridge and the scary bears.

A bull in a field this morning provided more than enough fear for one day, thanks. After some nifty traversing around a hill, which didn’t help the feet any, a nasty goring incident was helpfully avoided, but it was a close-run thing. (One doesn’t like to hurt animals).

Of course one can expect to raise a shed-load more money for the Charity of one’s choice by dying in the attempt but my 3 lovely daughter‎s have already lost one parent (think Lady Bracknell here) and my amazing fiancée doesn’t want to be widowed before the altar at so tender an age.

So please give generously even though I’m still alive!