Walking Through Wild Garlic
In a week and a small sleep I will be walking for twelve days along the Pilgrim’s Way, which doesn’t actually exist at all. It’s a hand-hold from before London, for hunter-gatherers afraid of heights. I suppose that the North Downs Way is where I’m heading. There will be a couple of nights in hostels in Rochester and Canterbury, mainly because municipal councils would not take kindly to a heavy-set rambler attempting to drive budget tent pegs into a Curry’s forecourt.
It’s partly for research, partly for weight-loss, partly for itself and partly nothing at all. I certainly haven’t worked hard enough to deserve it, but it falls fortuitously in a small break and I intend to take advantage of it. I won’t be taking many photos or even turning my phone other than for updates to my prematurely-grieving family, but I will be writing, and I will probably scan some of it and put it up here.
I will try to post some other things before then, but commence hair-tearing for a couple of weeks.