Well, we've all heard the excuses retailers and service providers give when there is a problem. Yesterday at The Swan i washed out my walking socks and put them on the ground outside my room to dry - that is actually outdoors.
Later in the evening the socks had vanished. The pub was very busy with perhaps eighty people sat outside merrymaking until nearly midnight.
This morning, mentioning the socks to the manager he suggested they had been taken by their familiar urban fox. Knowing my socks after walking 15 miles, even though washed out they may never have a problem with that fox again.
Walking in the heat today was nearly as tough as some of my walks in France. I'm glad I am only carrying a light rucksack.
Another unusual boat name: Caivir Vie, as far as I remember. The owner was quizzed. Well remembered trips to The Isle of Man had always started with this greeting in IOM Gaelic as one rolls off the ferry, which means have a hood voyage.
I stopped at The Dundas Arms at midday for a pint of orange and lemonade. There was a whole bevy of well-to-do middle classers in their smart chinos, well polished brown shoes, and sleeveless shirts, and the ladies with good perfume and summer frocks, all ordering lunch. Looks like a popular spot. I was not in the least embarrassed or feeling inferior, butIi felt out of place as I sat there running with sweat and suncream, sporting walking poles and rucksack , and a funny stained, but treasured hat, and mused that most of those guys were younger than me and would hardly be capable of walking to their local pub.
Music again. After the previous night's enjoyment I tuned in after my meal to Classic FM's Uninterrupted feature. The first item was Bryn Terfel singing Shenandoah, not to my taste, then it was Rimsky Koraakov's Scherherazade thing which again is not a favourite by a long way, so I flitted back and forth, until I found the grand finale was Ravel's Bolero, at which point I switched off.
I am now at The Pelican at Froxfield. Quite upmarket - proper milk in a Thermos flask in the room to make good tea instead of that chemical stuff in little plastic tubs.
The canal going through the centre of Newbury.
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