The final couple of days.

Five hours before a break then two steak and ale pies from two establishments. I'm stuffed and ready for the last leg of Friday. I'm booked in the Notley Arms, Monksilver on a Friday... It's a pub and it's a Friday...

I can see light at the end of the tunnel regards this insanity. Why did I bring the full camping ensemble when I haven't slept sunny side up since Cheddar. I've always good intentions, but they often fall into dust.

Fantastic. One hundred degrees warmer than the desolation of The Old Cider House. In the Notley Arms I don't have to disappear into the Ancient Mariner or the George before coming back to sleep. It's Friday and the coast isn't too far distant so I chose Fish and Chips. Two Old Rosie Cider to wash it down. Now I'm au naturel supine on the single long bed in room number 7. The patrons didn't mind me eating the food on my lap or walking about barefoot. They said treat it like your home which is why I'm relaxing as nature intended waiting for the tiredness to pass.

...

The tiredness evolved into snores. In the background a group of locals were below me in the garden, but their gentle voices lulled me to sleep rather than startled me awake.

*

It would be almost true to see it as a perfect end to a perfect week, but I didn't cover quite as much distance on a couple of days. It wasn't exactly easy going under the sunshine, or through the nodding heads of grasses heavily ladened with pollen, and yesterday was the final day.

There was one chap in a group of three, who had come here to go motorbike scrambling, from Knaresborough who offered to take me back with him to Wetherby this morning. That would be fortunate at any other time, but a full car is too many people during Covid. And I'm not sure I could be that close to three strangers these days? Although I am usually willing to hop in next to a driver or passenger using BlaBlaCar on the continent.

On the very edge of Exmoor National Park I feel it's time to start heading back North in good time for dog walking on Tuesday. Being back in Leeds by Sunday early evening would be ideal so I can see Lola on Monday morning too.

*

There were two ancient woodland sections, after Bincombe and around Westquantoxhead and one historical byway, a long pipe of foliage surrounding the well sunken footpath after Sampford Brett. In Alfoxton Park I asked a gentleman what the hall was used for, as it looked like it was being renovated and it turns out it's going to be a Buddhist retreat site... Now if only I'd had my other head on my shoulders, and the smaller daysack not weighing me down, I would've thought of seeking out religious sites for a place to rest on an evening.

As I've an extra night in the South West perhaps I could get the chap from Knaresborough to drop me somewhere he might be passing...

*

Why did I walk to Bishop's Lydeard? Saturday was as warm as it's capable for it to be in carrying the rucksack for several hours. When I finally made it to Temple Meads all I could think was 'beer'. So I stopped in the Left Handed Giant 'brewpub' a giant of an establishment. I had a can of Dark Mild and a schooner of Keller. Then I went via smallBar up to St Michael's Hill calling in to the Robin Hood and Beerd before Tapas and vinos. Somehow I got to the Home from Home in Southmead with a little help from the people I was passing. My phone had just about died by the time I stepped off the number two bus near to Lidl on Monk's Park Avenue. But I slept on and on until 6:30. And then drank a bad cup of instant coffee before catching the number 2 on Greystokes Avenue and back to Clifton Down on Whiteladies Road.

Now I'm sat in the shade above the Clifton Suspension Bridge where all this silliness began on Monday morning. People fly drones, couples pass by promenading and I hang about for 360° to open so I can get breakfast!