Day Five. to the Quantocks bright and early...

Obviously I misunderstood what the host of the B&B meant. He made me a pack lunch to take with me, but it's possibly a fraction of what I expected. If what he left me to consume before a long day ahead... I'll fail to walk many many miles happily - the old saying that an army marches on its stomach is accurate.

Some breeze during the night woke me as it shock the sash windows and the toilet door. It took a while to locate where the constant rattling noise was coming from. Then I struggled with the duvet which was too heavy and put too much pressure on my feet. The bed which I took to be a king sized afair is actually two singles so I could only sleep on one side for fear of being woken. In bed I find any impediment at the edges a cause for concern and I always awake whenever my foot touches a footboard or finds the edge or feels suffocated in the bed.

The better of the two pubs appears to be the George with its plentiful doggies. The Ancient Mariner was where I ate. They had the better cider though - Mad Apple Cider, but we're more expensive. I ate a very large bacon cheeseburger and fries, with one of Alfie's Bone Dry (£15.45), before I returned to Peanut the wire haired Jack Russell for one final Thatcher's Stan (a very good dry traditional cider) in the George. Someone in the George told me the Mariner is a good pub, but for some reason Thursday are always very quiet around these parts.

By yesterday evening I felt a little too exhausted to actually continue onwards to Lynton, but this is to be expected while ever I burn the candle at both ends. But yesterday afternoon/early evening I also gave myself a chance to carry on by having an early night. Perhaps I've enough food as I've also got about a half of the Bartlett Brother's Millstone cheese I bought back in Glastonbury available. There was a lot of calories in the burger too. Bridgewater was a problem. I'd say to definitely miss it out entirely on the Samaritan's Way by linking up to another village south of it, if that's possible?

Too many towns like Bridgwater exist in England in the 21st century. The post-industrial decline effect. All these rural folks brought to the town when it was needy of many hands until mechanisation or the industry moved elsewhere and the tide left them high and dry without any chance of moving them along the shore. Mining 'pit' villages are my ancestry, my dad's side were agricultural labours before they were pressed into digging a seam of coal and destroying their minds. I'm guessing that there are parts of India and China where this horror still plays out...