Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud!’ This just about sums up our walk today. We left Clovelly in drizzle, which continued throughout the day. The first part of our walk was easy, along the ‘Hobby Drive’, a cobbled lane, for almost 3 miles. Then the coastal path took us up and down through woodland until two miles from our destination. The paths were unabated mud, almost impossible to walk around, and very slippery.

‘Uh-uh!
Mud!
Thick oozy mud.
We can’t go over it,
We can’t go under it.
Oh no!
We’ve got to go through it!
Squelch squelch! Squelch squelch! Squelch squelch!’

It made for an exhausting day, and we arrived in Westwood Ho tired, wet and very muddy! However, after baths and clean clothes we went out for a very enjoyable meal at a lovely Thai Restaurant.

A Backward Glance

Today, it must be said, was climbing over one steep hill of mud after another. There is no joy in this but it is the perfect condition for unbridled grumpiness. However, judging by the smiles on everyone’s face we met, I was the only one not in love with mud. It’s very irritating for an old man to be immersed in cheerful smiley company when all he wants is a good moan with someone. Then I saw what should have been perfect relief, someone staggering, slipping and sliding towards us carrying TWO packs, one on his back and one on his front. After me explaining to him my appreciation of his decision to share weight between two bags and in a well balanced fashion before finally allowing him to get a word in, he explained that his lady companion had injured her knee and was hobbling along behind. I explained that they had at least ten miles of mud slides in front of them, thinking that should work, but disappointingly he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled . I consoled myself with the thought that my lady companion was tough and if my knee ever hurt she’d carry my bag on her chest easily. Well, she could but wouldn’t of course. Sorry, but I’m needing to get a bit grumpy for a minute. I suffer from a severe but rare ‘bone’ disorder that means any exertion after an extended time of rest or inactivity can be traumatic or even dangerous for me. Carol knows this but every morning, I’ve hardly stopped snoring before she drags me and the bed sheets I’m clinging onto into the bathroom. Points her Cruella de Vil finger at me, and in her strict primary school teacher’s voice commands “shower – dressed – ten minutes”. I’ve had the condition all my life, it’s been diagnosed as bone-idleness. There’s no medical cure but it’s not contagious. Anyway, we got to Westward Ho eventually and enjoyed Spring Rolls and a Curry at a Thai restaurant accompanied by a large glass of Red, which made me feel much better.