The aim was to have been walking today, Sunday November 27th, but no. Cooking paella and reading Sunday papers instead, having just completed a jaunty 4 and a half miles to Dunwich.
The idea was to squeeze in one more weekend’s worth of walking before the end of the year – it was always going to be a gamble what with the short hours of daylight and tricky weather. We got off to a good start and, herding cats, I banged off the following message to the five possible walkers:
The route from Wells to Brancaster, with an overnight, then Brancaster to Old Hunstanton, will have to wait though.
It’s not often we give in, but his time Whitts needed a serious talking to about undertaking the next leg of The Big Walk when her foot still looks like a slab of corned beef, and so finally she sent this message to the team:
With a weekend’s worth of child/dog/cat care in place it seemed churlish to stay at home. So here I am in Suffolk again. We felt we had to remind ourselves that we could still put one foot in front of the other and enlisted Mertz to pick us up at the other end in case. We may not have had our three planned human companions, but the three four legged ones did their best to stand in.