Tuesday, 19 October 2010

Day 12 Brompton to Ingleby Arncliffe

We are smarting from readers criticisms that our days revolve around beer, chips and daytime TV. What do arty farty designers know anyway?

Easier to be lyrical about the lake district, bit more difficult about flat fields, farm tracks, friesan cows and sheep. But we will try to keep our followers entertained. I feel quite sorry for anyone who is following this rubbish anyway, you might think about getting out a little more. Why not get yourself a couple of jigsaws from a charity shop. It would be more fun than following this lot.

Been looking at the statistics. More than 1500 hits, there must be some sad people out there. Hits from all over the world, West and Eastern Europe, Australia, India, South Africa, UAE, USA, Mexico. If you are one of these, please email us we would like to hear from you

Well here is our day, up early as we had 18 miles in front of us. Both had poached eggs on toast, cannot face another full English (that’s the last food mention).

As we left our evening resting place at daybreak, Dunc was struck my a poetic moment and rested on style to pen these few words of verse.

Just Another Special Day.
Slowly the sun rises

As night melts into day

Full of promise and excitement

Wonderment and surprise

I watch the stars fade

As the sky comes alive

Velvet black shades to bright cyan blue

A rosy disc edges brightly

It was gonna be a long day, so we clogged on as fast as we could. Usual arrangement Dunc in front leading the way and map reading, GB 20 yards behind taking photos now and again. GB manages to carry crisps in his pack whilst Dunc has to carry fruit, cakes, coffee flask and anything else heavy.

What do you talk about on the 12th day that you have not talked about already? The beauty of short term memory loss is that we both cannot remember what we talked about a few days ago, so we recycle.

Elevenses was at Danby Whiske, perched ourselves on the seat outside the pub. The landlord cam out to chat, the pub had had a bad press both from Wainwright and Julia Bradbury. He has recently taken over and refurbished, now looking good. Starting chatting to his wife and mother in law, who both came from York. His mother in law knew Dunc’s dad, having lived in the same area during the war.

The rest of the walk was head down and keep going, field after field, lane after lane. Finally came to the A19 dual carriageway. The only way across is to run like hell. Pretty scary at 4pm in the rain.

Another 18 miles ticked off not the most picturesque part of the journey. Photos are of cows and fields.

If you are still with us, thanks.

Dunc and Geordie Boy
PS Going to pub at 7pm for beer and chips


  1. Molly
    Want to thank you for your comments a couple of days ago. The rest of them do not appreciate want entertaining and stimulating company I am. Tell Mick, I have had an email from work - the blinds have fallen down.


  2. Oooo! Harsh riposte! We are here to be entertained, you know!
    Talking of Mick - I have a little list! Probably won't see hide nor hair of him now, I suspect.
    A poyem (a Dave would say)Dunc? And you call us arty farty?!

  3. Why are you still carrying apples?! Haha see you sooooon!!

  4. Well done guys! not long to go!

  5. What do you talk about on the 12th day that you have not talked about already? You don't you get the tape measure out....

  6. A poem...sniff...almost had me in tears...but to be serious, very evocative! You have asked a couple of times why we're following you...because we love you Dunc...and that
    you are, without question, one of this countries greatest tit's...sorry, bloody typing...wit's, and it's a pleasure accompanying you across this green and pleasant land...one which your followers from foreign parts, when seeing the glorious vistas and history, must view with envy! I really am enjoying your walk, and will miss it, and you, when it ends...so get the next one planned sharpish like! Trot x

  7. Trot
    I am overcome with emulsion. I have tears in my eyes as I read your comments. Love you too.

    By the way if you put "poems sunrise" into google you will find the peom I have plagiarised.

    See ya soon trot.


  8. I hope Pauline doesn't read this, she'll think we're having an affair. Rather than be disappointed by your admission that it was Google that spewed out the aforementioned ditty, I am, conversely, impressed by your grasp of t'internet in the depths of Albion...and initiative, thereof! But beware, I know how lonely it is out there, int'wilderness, so just make sure you stick to Googling poetry...anything untoward may result in becoming visually challenged, and on a coast to coast that could prove a bit of a handicap! Incidentally, have you noticed how I have introduced the grasp of local vernacular to my writings in keeping with your geographical location. Sorry to read you have the plague, maybe you can get some ointment in the next village? Trot x

  9. Too late Trot. We all know about you two! Remember Bologna?

  10. Poems, we don’t want Poems, we want the in-depth look at British Countryside coupled with the anguish of being lost.
    How about a Robins Bay to St. Bees return trip, lap of honour, but this time with an 8 iron and just 5 golf balls.
    We like the abuse, we need more

  11. "Photos are of cows and fields"... was that for the Brummies?

  12. Well the reason you have 1500 followers is that, the spammers are trying to find your email address and then they can send you loads of Viagra offers.
    They think that this would improve your map reading skills and help you “pole vault” the obstacles better.
    Not seen a picture of your new Deputy Dog hat yet either

  13. Bologna! Trust that to crop up. Well, when in Rome...two glasses of Chianti and he's anybodies!
    Funnily enough I was driving through North Yorkshire, when suddenly these two idiots shot across the road! Playing chicken on the A19...kids eh!

  14. We know Trot! You and Dunc. Alone. Far Away. At a loose end. I fear for Geordie Boy's virtue - he's vulnerable.

  15. He'll be fine...layers, that's it, he'll be wearing layers...that's the answer on a coast to coast walk...layers...he won't get through layers!
    Anyways up, it's all gone very quiet...clearly those chips and beer have gone straight to his head...either that or he's watching the apprentice?
    Or, referring back to the first two informative lines of this saga ( I mean in the Nordic sense, not the 'sex and games for the age-ed' ), 4th September, when Dunc's bowels are given an airing...or rather the content hereonin hadn't been...that finally the laxative qualities of the aforesaid 'chips and beer' have kicked in! He could, as we text, be s*****g for England? It's amazing what a plate of Yorkshire chips fried in sheep fat and a couple of pints of Theakston's 'Auld Shit Shifter' (5.6ABV) can do! Well, I must depart this merry task, and not having any Theakston's in, I'm gonna get me gob round a Stella...and she's getting impatient! Coming pet!
    Keep up the good walk, me old Dunc! Trot x