Hi ho, hi ho - In the name of Thiago - Day 55
And yes it’s off to work I go, once again on foot.
The alarm was set for 4am but fuckadoodledoo went my subconscious and I woke up at 3.10 Anyway after faffing about for way longer than was necessary, I attached my Thiago felt heart to my hi-vis jacket and was out the door at 4.10.
Christ it was cold. I’ve taken to walking in shorts now as this creates one less problem in terms of surface run off water. But it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that it was a wee bit parky first up today.
The first half of the walk was largely uneventful livened momentarily by a brief encounter with an unsuspecting fellow early riser. Don’t get me wrong, I love the peace and quiet, not to mention the thinking time that a five-hour walk to work starting at 4am brings, but I do like bumping into people on the way.
It’s equally fair to say that this feeling is by no means mutual. I discovered this again today when I met the driver of the 3a First bus service in Talke Pits at 5.40.
‘Not many punters I bet at this time eh?’ I quipped, as he drew on his fag. A barely audible grunt was the response, which nonetheless conveyed the message of ‘if you’re not getting on, you can fucking well do one.’ I did one.
Onwards I ploughed without any undue alarm taking in much industrial drudgery while criss-crossing the A500 and passing under and over the M6. I thought I’d pulled off a masterstroke as the rain started to fall with greater relish in Hassall Green – a little hamlet about four miles or so from my end destination – when I decided that the canal path was probably a little too treacherous. The same path had stitched me up like a kipper only a fortnight ago and I was going to outsmart the bastard today.
Then I was presented with this.
To borrow a phrase from my learned friend Paul Nunney, ‘shit up a rope’ I thought. After pausing briefly to consider my options, I decided that I’d come too far down the track to abort. So with no little determination I managed to keep one boot entangled with the accompanying roadside hedgerow while dragging myself along using sticking out branches, which also performed the useful task of lacerating my freezing hands.
A few choice words were uttered but I conquered the flood with one foot still not completely filled with gunk. A fucking triumph!
By 8.50, which is a new personal best, despite the flood incident and a couple of other minor fuck-ups I’d made it to the office in a magnificent 4 hours and 40 minutes a new personal best no less and settled down to a bacon bap and a lovely brew made by Georgie.
Just before I sign off for the day, allow me to point you in the direction of my interview on BBC Radio Stoke with the affable Scot Lamont Howie, which was broadcast this afternoon.
The piece begins at 1:27:30 and goes through to 1:41:04 with a brief break for Frankie Vali and the Four Seasons so not too long for you to listen to!
Pleasekeep helping me fundraise for UHNM Charity and Birmingham Children’s Hospital.