The first part of the plan, walking from Truro to north Wales, took about four months. That took me by surprise, I'd seen it on a map and it only looked about an inch and a half apart, there's a tip; always check your scales. I'd like to say it was an adventure but in actual fact it was really fucking shit. Please excuse my bad language but no other words will suffice for how truly God awful it was. Five hundred miles I walked, It's not that far but I kept on getting lost. Ended up in bloody Derby at one point and no one has a reason to be in Derby, ask anyone from Derby and they'll tell you the same. It was winter to boot and all, November, January, December, February, and the crap part of March.
I thought it would be a piece of piss. Suren back in the olden days folks were always banging on about places only being a week or a few days walk away. I should have nicked a donkey or something but then I could barely forage enough food for myself. Apparently but, they eat grass, if I'd known that at the time I could have cut the journey time in half.
Suffice to say there many interesting encounters and fascinating misadventures on my quest to crash on my father's sofa, but I'll not recount those here and save the juicy details for a lucrative publication. It could well be an Odyssey for our modern times so get excited about that. There'll be a bit of violence, some animal cruelty, and plenty of sex; some bad, all inappropriate, and some imaginary. Hot stuff.
by the time I got to the welsh coast I was properly knackered. They keep it quiet but Wales is all hills and mountains. No wonder they don't tell anyone, If people knew it was uphill all the way in that country no bugger would go, well no one told me at any rate. However if you thought the walk was the hard part that's nothing compared to the next bit, traversing the mighty Irish Sea.