Over the last week or so, it has generally gone good day, bad day, good day etc. In that particular cycle of events, yesterday should have been my good day and today my bad. However, this didn’t happen. Yesterday was mildly painful, and, although it certainly wasn’t one of my worst days, it couldn’t really be considered a good day. That said, I had some of my pains diagnosed by a surgeon friend, and this has resulted in today being fantastic. I was told that perhaps the over-sensitive feeling in the soles of my feet was because of the sudden and prolonged stress I was putting my feet under, and that an anti-inflammatory pain reliever such as ibuprofen might help. Last night I was awoken by the pain in the soles of my feet, and so I took the advice. This morning I felt fine, and an hour or so into the walk, when the soles of my feet began to feel tender again, I took another couple of tablets. Incredibly, as I drove home this afternoon, I didn’t wince every time I had to use the clutch, and I didn’t hobble from the car to the door, and I didn’t even feel the need to soak my feet.
So yes, a good day. I started out from Dunton Bassett shortly after half nine, where the path passes through a couple of fields (including passing by the sadly vandalised playground) before crossing the A426, before crossing a couple of more fields and then crossing the M1. On passing through a field of sheep, I was followed by some of them to the stile, and so I thought that perhaps the sheep would be the animal of the day to pay attention to me. How wrong I was. I had the closest cow encounter yet a couple of fields later. They began following me about halfway through the field, and one actually tried to eat the neckerchief tied to my day sack. As I reached the stile, I took the trouble to photograph them, and in so doing, gave the more courageous of the cows an opportunity to lick my hands and trousers, presumably in search of food.
The path then passed through the delightful Willoughby Waterleys – a village unusual in having a pub (The General Elliott) that is for drinking only, they don’t do food. I was very nearly run over by a bin lorry on the other side of the church, but said a cheery hello to an elderly gent who’d witnessed the said event. The path from Willoughby to Peatling Magna is even more well known to me than the veins on the back of my hand, being one of my tried and tested Scout practise hikes.
This was where the path turned south towards Bruntingthorpe (the village). It follows a fairly uneventful and nondescript course through fallow and crop fields, before rising to Bruntingthorpe. On passing through the village, the thing that stood out for me on this occasion was that the garage and repair shop still has the old petrol pumps and prices board outside, despite them no longer offering the service (presumably due to not being able to compete as an independent). This was also where my last 100 mile challenge finished – the last leg of the journey being Bruntingthorpe to Foxton and back. On that occasion there was just me, my camera and my mud clogged boots to celebrate.
A mile and a half or so later, I was in Shearsby. Another tiny, out of the way village with expensive looking houses, but evidently something of a community, as the Parish Council purchased the village green and built a playground there in 1994. I took a good hour over lunch, taking the time to relax, have a pint of squash at the pub, and drink in the wonderful weather.
Tomorrow, the final day, I have just over eleven miles to walk from Foxton to Shearsby and back, even though I only have seven point eight miles left to walk to reach the goal of two hundred miles. It really will be something of an occasion as I walk down the hill from Gumley to Foxton Locks. Tomorrow’s blog may be longer in coming as a result….
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