Runcorn to Slaidburn

 June 16th

first glimpse of countryside

For once I got away at the time I intended.

Having spent last night in the Premier Inn in Runcorn I was well placed to start today's route along the busy A56 to Warrington. I managed to avoid a cooked breakfast and felt the better for it all morning. The morning route was through Warrington, Leigh, Bolton and the onward to Blackburn. They are virtually all joined in one giant conurbation which is very reminiscent of Coronation Street. Street after street of red brick terraces. Until Bolton it was predominantly flat but then it began to go up and continued up and down and up all the way to Slaidburn. 

Early in the day I had a recurrence of a technical issue. Because of the weight of the bar bag on the handlebars and the fact that I ride almost exclusively on the hoods, the hoods gradually slide down and forward and the droops back and up to the point that I can scarcely reach the brakes. Fortunately I had just the right allen key and it was the work of a few moments to return to normality. What a difference.

Kim, Jan and John

The route was varied and I quite enjoyed the contrast with the previous few days in the countryside full of agricultural smells. Today was more diesel than cow piss. The afternoon cycle through the forest of Bowland was quite spectacular except that I knew in advance that it would end with a big UP.

Just after Bob's Smithy Inn, which was just above Bolton, I came across three cycling amigos sitting on a bench by the side of the road. I stopped for a rest and to say hello. It turned out the they were Kim, Jan and John three cycling friends who were very welcoming and appeared interested in my journey.  They said I would remember their names because of the North Korean leader. I think it was Jan who was particularly keen to hear about my route because she had a desire to complete a lejog herself. The link to the GPS route is here:

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1TSz73zsDWMqYJXR3KEDUrTjXQnKXnxob&usp=sharing

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=17RwLY961sN2wSdD33kkV5ayZRt-ohsEN&usp=sharing

We had a fine chat and then I  could feel the clock ticking and bade them farewell but not before we had taken some photos.

Kim, Brian and John

It took me nearly an hour to cross Blackburn but near the centre as I climbed a steep hill ( another steep hill) I spied a little bike shop which turned out to be a communithy not for profit bike shop.

 I purchased another spare tube and was given access to a track pump to get my tyres back up to 5 bar. The manager insisted on finding some dust caps for my bare valves and sent me off with good wishes. Although he couldn't understand why anyone would choose a route through Blackburn.

Blackburn Cathedral

I am staying tonight in the heart of Slaidburn in the Hark to Bounty Inn.

The Story Behind The Name....

The inn is reputed to date back to the 1300s, although most of the existing fabric of the building dates from the 16th century. The inn was known as The Dog until 1875, when the squire of the village, who was also the Rector, had a pack of hounds. One day whilst out hunting, he and his party called at the inn for refreshments. Their drinking was disturbed by a loud and prolonged baying from the pack outside. High above the noise of the other hounds could be heard the squire's favourite dog, which prompted him to call out ....

Hark to Bounty Inn

"Hark to Bounty!"

Upstairs in "The Bounty" is the Courtroom which was used as the local court from the early 19th century until the mid 1930s. This was originally the Manorial or "Moot" Court which dealt with local matters such as land transfers, disputes over land rights etc., in addition to the punishment of local miscreants.

Tonight is the end of day 7. In theory I am half way through my challenge so I thought I would reflect on the first week. It has certainly been hard and without the winter running training with Recreational Running I don't think I would have made it. My equipment is still in good order after the visit of the puncture fairy. I am almost scared to say this (but I am not supersticious) but I have had no twinges from my injured right hamstring. I have had the odd twinge from the left hamstring and yesterday a sore left calf for the last twenty or so miles, but all in all I am in good physical shape. I am not burned despite daily sunshine. I have been incredibly lucky with the weather - no rain and little wind. I am in good spirits and looking forward to meeting Pauline in 7 days time in John O' Groats.

Thanks to everyone who is supporting me directly or with messages passed through Pauline. I do apreciate your support. It really does help.

Clun to Runcorn

 June 15th

Clun is a tinyplace half the size of Freuchie but it had three pubs and two cafes and The White Horse Inn was the largest and most lively. There were 14 bikes parked in the garage (including my trusty, now, steed) there was a group of eight guys of about my age, but fat and unfit, who went off twice a year for a cycle tour ( and a food and drink extravaganza) I couldn't believe it when they ordered starters and mains and then puddings and when I went to bed they were set fair for the night with an array of wine and beer. Apparently the very accommodating landlord had eventually sent them off to bed telling them that he had to be up to serve breakfast.

I met them again at breakfast. Of the eight, four were going to be in the "support vehicle" for the day while the other four would cycle 20 miles or so. They were very interested in my venture and wished me well without adding to my total! They did keep me amused at breakfast with tales of past trips. "How would you like your steak sir, medium?" No I would prefer it to be large! boom, boom!

Shrewsbury

I eventually set off at 9.00 having been up and ready to roll at 07.30. The first two hours were difficult and up, climbing to 320m above sea level before descending through the Hope Valley Nature reserve. The remaining 70 miles were predominantly flat but needed constant navigation for the major routes were heading East to West and I was routed on country lanes heading North. The lanes were quiet and I didn't meet a soul until around 2pm when I arrived at the village of Hanmer and met Des a local worthy who was out on his electric bike for a little 15 mile circuit. 

Des

He was astounded when I told him where I had come from and my ultimate destination. He offered me cash for the Samaritans but I encouraged him to donate online. We chatted for at least 15 minutes. He kept asking questions and saying how fantastic my trip was. Quite a pick me up on a long day. At the time I wasn't sure if I was in Wales or England so I was treading carefully but Des was over the moon that England had lost 4-0 last evening and told me that he was a native Welsh speaker. End of doubt.

I had started the day in Wales then crossed into England, Shropshire, then back into Wales Wrexham county and finally back into England Cheshire. There were no signs. No "You are now entering Wales" but you could tell because the painted signs on the road in England said "SLOW" and in Wales "ARAF" and "SLOW"

The end of the day was the worst because I was riding along the busy A56. The wind which had not been noticeable all day picked up in my face and it started to blow through rain. It had become a race to get to the Premier Inn in Runcorn before the rain. I won. The Premier Inn in runcorn is huge. They have built a complete new three storey wing ( which is where I am comfortably installed for the night.) The motorway is very close but the triple glazing is doing its job and I look forward to a sound sleep ( or I may take them up on their sleep guarantee)

Church at Bellesfield

Although today was the longest leg so far, it had the least climbing and was therefor probably the easiest stage so far. I am tired tonight but not exhausted. My legs have got 640 kms in them and hopefully close to another 1000 kms left to come.

Monmouth to Clun

June 14th 

This was to be the shortest section of the whole trip described as easy/ moderate. Well I didn't find it easy or moderate. It was very lumpy and started with a steep climb and ended with a vertical climb. 

River Wye Hereford

Up at 7.00 breakfast at 7.30. on the road for 8.30 all was fine until I got to the centre of monmouth and no signs to Hereford. after a few false starts I foud the "footbridge linking classrooms of the Haberdashers' Monmouth School for girls" and followed the instruction to continue to ascend for 4 1/2 miles to the radio mast at Llancloudy. So much for the easy day.It did get better and half way to Hereford I came across a lady cyclist of indeterminate years who was making decent progress. When I caught up with her I asked her where she was going and it turned out she was going to Hereford (on my route) We got chatting and when we stopped because my chain had come off for the second time of the morning and the fourth or fifth altogether, we played a game of "guess where my accent is from" She thought I was Irish and I thought I heard a hint of German. I was right. Pass Go collect £200. When we hit the A49 a fast dual carriageway into Hereford where I was able to go faster on the downhill sections because of my droop handlebars so I didn't see her in Hereford.

Riverside Inn Aymestry

The navigation around Hereford was reasonably straightforward but thereafter it was a fairly lumpy up followed by level followed by up and so on. Nothing too terrible just NOT FLAT. The traffic was fairly busy but gave me generous space. 

I met no cyclists or anyone else for that matter  until later in the afternoon. In Wigmore two volunteers were teaching the p7 children how to ride their bikes on the road. One of the instructors asked me about my trip and shook my hand. He asked me if he could ask how old I was. I guess because I was making such slow progress up the hill into town.

Cycle Safety

Another solitary encounter was when I stopped to photograph an incredible yew hedge in Brampton Bryan. A blind lady was passing me guided by an alsatian labrador cross. I asked her about her dog and we got chatting. Brampton Bryan was a picture postcard village unlike most of the places that I passed through today.  Little of interest and few photos.

Incredible ancient yew hedge

The White Horse Inn in Clun is very lively and they brew their own beer in the back garden. Today was the least interesting day so far but I am here in one piece. My confidence was boosted by a cycling couple from York who are staying in the hotel tonight. the husband had done and end to end last year supported by a company which transported luggage etc. We got chatting and when I saud how old I was she exclaimed "NO WAY!" I like this Yorkshire lady.

View from the top of THE hill

For those that like to follow the route log in to Strava and follow me to see the detailed route.

Glastonbury to Monmouth

 June 13th

F***

For those of you who have said that you are enjoying reading my musings on here, this is for you. Last evening tired and weary I wrote a long account of this the worst day so far with pictures and lengthy descriptions of my prevails in I hope a fairly light hearted manner. However, somewhere along the way the final disaster occurred and rather than publish my account I completely lost my account. I spent half an hour this morning trying to find it in the cloud or in the sky or the ether but IT WAS GONE.

Now, Tuesday evening in Clun (pronounced to rhyme with one) at the White Horse Inn where I have just eaten the very best steak pie and chips I will attempt without a great deal of enthusiasm to reconstruct yesterday's tale of woe.

I was already suffering day 4 blues, when the original euphoria of setting out weaqrs off and you realise what you have undertaken. I was determined to get an early start when I discovered that I had left my sunblock at the previous stop. no big deal there was an Aldi nearby and I needed a bottle of water anyway.

When I got to my bike my heart sank. The back tyre was pancake flat. So, luggage off, tools out, bike upside down, tyre off ( easier said than done with Schwalbe super Marathon PUNCTURE PROOF tyres) When I got the tyre off the problem was immediately evident. A huge pinch in the tube which I presume happened when I hurtled over a cattle grid in Dartmoor. quite how it lasted so long is a mystery. New tube in (I had two spares - nobody fixes punctures these days) pumped up as hard as possible with my tiny pump and ready to go to aldi and off to Wells, home of the famous Cathedral. Annoying but not too damaging. An hour lost.

Entrance to Wells Cathedral

At Wells I felt compelled to visit the centre to see the Cathedral befor joining
the Old Bristol Road. Unfortunately I couldn't find it. Fortunately I found a Halfords (which the Cycle chat Community call Halfrauds) where a helpful young member of staff let me use his track pump and sold me a replacement tube. Half an hour of circling led to the postie guiding me up the Old Bristol Road. Up was the appropriate word up to 300m. Gear 28 was engaged from time to time. ( I have 27 gears) 

Once up I was on the Somerset levels which were reasonably level before a rapid descent to Chew Valley lake. On the descent my back wheel felt wobbly and when I checked it was soft. I added air three times before I eventually borrowed someone's drive to change the tube. Take two was a repeat of take one only it was the middle of the day and very hot.

Chew Lake

On the next descent my heart was in my mouth but tube 2 seemed to be fine (and still is today) The next section was a circle to the West of Bristol under the iconic Clifton Suspension Bridge and on to Avonmouth docks and then along the Severn to the Severn Crossing. Along the way in amongs the barreling lorries I spied a fellow cyclist pushing his bike on the other side of the road. I asked if he was alright and he showed me his flat tyre. I offered to give him what I thought was my last tube but he declined saying that my need was greater than his. He had called his wife who was on the way to pick him up. ( I discovered today that I had two more tubes and now I feel bad)

Clifton suspension Bridge

The lead up to the severn Bridge is a fast dual carriage way with lorries thundering past. the guide book said that cycles should leave 600m before the lorries on a cycle track NCN4. When I got there disaster. A notice cycleway closed follow diversion. I had no idea where the diversion was going but I made up my mind that if necessary I was on the main carriageway across the bridge!

Severn Crossing

 After afurther 400m I came to the sign for diverted traffic to turn left. Phew. I was still celebrating when A huge lorry brushed past me nearly knocking me from my bike. It was a contractor's lorry from the company who were making repairs hence the earlier closure.

As I crossed the bridge I was being buffeted by a cross wind which kept my eyes on the cycleway and off the view. Still not too bad. No real harm done. no need to throw myself off the Severn Bridge. I had got to Bristol and I would finish!

The next disaster was entirely self inflicted. A mile after the bridge was a huge roundabout with three lanes and five exits. I was supposed to take exit four which would skirt Chepstow and put me on the Wye valley road to Monmouth. I didn't like the look of cycling around the roundabout so I cheated and went right and took exit FIVE to Chepstow. An exhilirating descent of two miles took me into and out of Chepstow and when I saw a sign YOU ARE NOW ENTERING ENGLAND I realised my mistake. I had to climb all of the way back up to the roundabout before taking exit four to Monmouth.

Tintern Abbey

The Wye valley was pretty but it was at least five miles before I got my first glimpse of the river itself. It was a lovely ride up into Monmouth but by then I was tired and just wanted to get there which I duly did by 7.30. The Premier Inn in Monmouth is like every other which is the main reason to stay. Breakfast is served from 06.00 the beds are comfy and the showers are great and if you book at the right time they are incredibly good value for money.

Moretonhampstead to Glastonbury

 June 12th

Up at 7.00 bright sunshine visible through the bedroom window of the Old PostHouse. Breakfast was at 8.0 but I had already loaded up my trusty steed so I would be ready for a swift get away. I had half expected to be fixing a puncture first thing because last evening I hit a cattle grid at 50 kph and thereafter the back tyre felt as if it was softer than before. I was too tired to do anything then so it was surprising that it appeared to be fine this morning. 

Breakfast was an international affair. There was a middle aged German couple who spoke no English trying to order breakfast with difficulty. The menu had choices at ever turn- tea or coffee, apple or orange juice, white toast or brown or mixed. Hilarious. there was an older French couple who spoke English and understood what to order. There was an English couple and yours truly the odd one out. Breakfast was a 9 out of 10. when I left I couldn't help showing off with Goodbye, Auf Wiedersen, Au Revoir.

Last Evening had ended with a swift descent into Moretonhampstead so it was no surprise that there would be a big ascent out of there this morning. It didn't disappoint. 1 1/4 miles of hill too steep for even my granny gear. Great start. But down the other side was pretty exhilarating and cold. I had to stop to put my jacket on. this continued throughout the day. Jacket on, jacket off. Dylan had told me that it was downhill all the way to Exeter. He lied. There were at least three big ups including Six Mile Hill which fortunately wasn't six miles long but instead, I think, six miles from Exeter.  The last part was admittedly sharply down into Exeter.

However after the first descent I checked the back tyre which was still feeling soft. I did have a tiny little pump but I had no expectation that it could blow my tyre up to 5 bar. Miracles do happen. My arm was nearly falling off but it duly reached 5 bar and the tyre has felt good all day.

After Exeter, which took a fair bit of navigating to get through and out the other side the route settled into a pattern of navigating from on picture postcard Devon hamlet to the next via narrow lanes where there was only just room for a car and me but to be fair virtually ever car stopped and pulled in to let me pass. Pinhoe, dog Village, Talaton, Payhembury came and went before I arrived in the fairy tale village of Broadhembury. Everysingle cottage including the pub and the church have thatched roofs. It was very attractive. If I had known that it was to be followed by the worst hill yet I might have stayed longer. 

"Ascend steeply for 1 1/2 miles through woodland" was the instruction in my end to end guide but that doesn't begin to cover it. It was creepy, steep, the roadsurface was terrible and I was knackered after the first bend. About half way up as I was slumped over the handlebars in the "recovery position" a young lady cyclist who was sailing down the hill, stopped to enquire if I was alright. I explained that I was engaged in the old man up the steep hill strategy. Instead of split the hill into three or four parts it was split the hill into thirteen or fouteen parts with suitable rests in between. She wished me well and went on her way and I wished yet again that I would have had the presence of mind to take a photo.

However hell was followed by heaven. 10 miles of flat wellsurfaced road and a wind more behind than against. Bliss. I was bowling along at 30 kph. I knew that it couldn't last and it didn't. A long drag was followed by a fantastically exhilarating descent into another picture postcard village of Corfe. Thereafter it was back to the lanes to negotiate a way around Taunton. In the village of Stoke St Mary I stopped to photograph the 13th century St Mary's church but got more than I bargained for. A lady of about my age was pushing a push chair containing a child who looked about 8 or 9 years old. Completely unbidden she told me that her son had passed away 12 weeks ago and today would have been his 43rd birthday. It got worse. The girl in the push chair was autistic and didn't speak and she had two brothers 5 and 2 for the mother to cope with. What do you say to that? I hope that I made suitably sympathetic noises but it definitely took the wind out of my sails.

The rest of the trip was reasonably rolling but significantly the wind turned and the last 15 miles were into a stiff breeze. There was one last hill, Collard Hill. Hills are like winds if they have a name they are significant. It was just before the town of Street, long and steep and for the first time the traffic was impatient. I was glad to rollinto Glastonbury where I am staying at the Premier Inn. 

 Tommorrow is 68 miles to Monmouth described by the guide as moderate. However I have lost faith in the author's ability to describe hills. We shall see. It has been said that if you reach Bristol you will go on to complete the end to end. Let us hope that that statement is accurate.

Fowey to Moretonhampstead

 June 11th

I awoke today to lovely bright sunshine and a forecast for much the same for most of the day. I was not about to repeat yesterday's mistake so I was liberally covered in sunblock. I had plenty of time to make preparation for the Ship Inn didn't do breakfast until 09.00. They did make the concession of allowing me to order last night and I was promised that my full English would be ready at 09.00 as it was.

Hansi

The first task was to ride the half a mile to The Boddinick Ferry which took 4 cars and two cyclist the 400 m accross the Fowey river. The day began as it would continue with a really steep climb from the ferry. On the ferry I had met a German touring cyclist who had cycled from Germany to Dover then Dover to Land's End

before beginning his Land's End to Joh O'Groats. He was camping so his four panniers and tent looked really heavy.We wished each other good fortune and went our separate ways. He was following a different route. I wish I had followed his route for it would have to have been flatter than mine.

Before I had gone the 8 miles to Looue my legs were burning and crying out for respit from the constant ascending the descending only to ascend again. The misery was interrupted when I stopped to allow a car to pass on the single track lane. It turned out that the owner of the house I was outside was a cyclist who was very interested in my trip and promised to put some money on my funding site. This was the first of three such promises today. 

Looue looked interesting but it sat at the foot of a huge down with its huge up to follow. While I was sat on a bench about half way up having a banana for energy a man stopped and asked if I was alright. He told me that he wondered if I had hurt my knee or some such and he just had to turn back to see if I was OK. There are some good Samaritans out there!

It seemed to take forever to cover the twenty miles to Tor Point which is just across the estuary from Plymouth. this ferry which took at least 10 minutes was free as opposed to the one minute crossing previously which cost the princely sum of £2.80 On the ferry I met Dylan a local road cyclist who as well as being interested in my tale gave me good advice for navigating through Plymouth and talked up my afternoon route over Dartmoor. He asked if I had a funding page and promised to add to the ever

Central Plymouth

growing total. Note to self: take more photos!

By the time I had cleared central Plymouth it was 3 pm and I wasn't half way and the hard hills were still to come. Help! Plymouth to Yelverton on the A386 was very very busy and uphill all the way. When I reached Yelverton which had a similar feel to Crianlarich (gateway) I felt the need for some instangt energy. Simon had texted to suggest Lucozade sport- I settled for a large portion of millionaire's shortbread. 

According to my guidebook the climb from Yelverton to Princetown was six miles long and a gain of 300 metres not something to look forward to on already tired legs but it wasn't as bad as expected. It would go up then plateau the go up again. Yes it was tiring. Yes some of it was steep but the Dartmoor scenery meant that I could pretend to take photos when I needed a rest. I didn't need to resort to gear 28 today which is always something.

Dartmoor was spectacular with incredible vistas and wild cattle, sheep and the eponymous ponies and wild horses BUT it was busy with cars and motorbikes and classic cars. It felt a bit like the NC 500. One incident will be long remembered. I came (very slowly it was severely uphill) upon a group of about a doze cattle with calves on the road. The were not for moving and were making aggressive gesture towards me - snorting and pawing the ground. I don't mind admitting I was scared. So I stopped a car coming behind me and asked if he would go slowly past this little herd so that I could cycle on his outside safe from the attention of the prtotective parents. He agreed readily and I passed safely.

Apart from the spectacular ups there were some spectacular downs. I think my top speed was in the high 50kphs but I was constantly afraid that one of the daft sheep would decide to cross in front of me. Later, back in the lanes the problem is you can't see around the corners so you are going around blind but determined not to give away the momentum for the inevitable next hill.

Eventually, I arrived at Moretonhampstead, a pretty Dartmoor village at 19.30. The old post House is my resting place for the night. Very comfortable and a warm welcome. I ate what may be the best pizza I have ever tasted it was billed as "Mafia. Don't ask!" Surprise. Washed down with a bottle of Morretti I felt restored and read to tackle the thanks for the many donations today and to write this before I collapse into what looks a comfortable bed. As I was paying for my pizza and explaining why it was so welcome a fellow diner and his wife called me over and having apologised for eavesdropping informed me that he was planning an end to end next year for Samaritans. He was gobsmacked when I told him that my end to end was for Samaritans and promised to donate and follow my blog.

It has been a strangely up and down day but the ups outweighed the downs both physically and metaphorically. Who know what a Sunday ride to Glastonbury holds in store.

Land's End to Fowey

June 10th

Land's End hostel and B&B

I had great plans to leave early, because today was to be one of the hardest days according to my Cicero guide. However when the alarm went off I turned over and (shock horror) it was almost 9.00 before I left my really superb overnight accommodation. It never ceases to amaze me how tiring travel is. Sitting on a train all day shouldn't be tiring but it is and it was.

 Breakfast was diy but several nice cereals including two porridges and one muesli, yoghurt, a pint of milk, half a pint of lovely orange juice and wholemeal and white bread to toast and four eggs for microwaved scrambled eggs. I scoffed the lot in anticipation of the need for bags of energy.

The iconic Land's End sign

Land's End is every bit as tacky as John O'Groats but more expensive. £7.50 to park and minimum of 10.99 to get a photo in front of the iconic Land'sEnd sign. There is a fence around it and only the official photographer can enter except this morning because I brazenly entered and duly took my photos and departed before I was challenged.

On the road by 09.15 and fortunately the reverse of last night's Penzance to Land'sEnd was mainly down and there was a nice air behind. Penzance came up fairly quickly and I stopped at a harbourside cafe for a coffee. It felt like an alien had descended. When I handed over a Bank of Scotland £10 note it was treated with extreme suspicion (a blast from the past) My attempt at disarming humour "Scottish pounds are worth more than English ones" was met with a seriously stony silence. To add injury to insult my greasy spoon coffee cost £3.00!

I am not very good at selfies

My Garmin was proving to be disappolnting. I couldn't see the screen and the confusing series of beeps before a change of direction were difficult to interpret. At one point I nearly ended up on the A30 (the nearest Cornwall has to a motorway with thundering trucks) 

After Leedstown I abandoned the country lanes and took to the A roads following the reverse of my train journey last evening. Cambourne, Redruth, Truro, St Austell and then the final 8 miles to Fowey. 

Yes it was hilly. Yes some of them were long but it wasn't too bad until I reached Par (which is 3 miles from Fowey) Polmear hill was a seriously steep mile long drag which tested my legs to their limit at the end. I had to resort to gear 28 halfway up.

Truro Cathedral

Truro was an interesting City. It has a cathedral but I doubt if the population exceeds 20000. The centre was pedestrianised and cobbles. Not great for cycling but I discovered the oldest Cornish Pastie maker in the world! Established in 1860 Warren's famous bakery sold me a giant cornish pastie for £4.95. It took a lot of eating and proved to be a mistake which repeated for the rest of the afternoon. 

Getting the nutrition  and hydration right is going to be problematic. Another problem only raised it ugly head when I took a shower. Several parts of my body failed the shower test. It was overcast all day so I didn't bother with sunscreen. Big mistake. Note to self. Sun screen first thing irrespective of the weather and its forecast.

Ship Inn Fowey

I am writing this in the outside space of the oldest pub in Fowey. It was established in 1560 by a sailor who took part in the defeat of the Spanish Armada. 

I was warmly welcomed when I arrived and felt the need for a pint of Cornish Ale which was greater than my need for a shower. Hicks Cornish Ale slips down a treat.

My bike is sqeezed into what would have been a coalshed. 

I have had to book a table for dinner because when I arrived at 5 there were reservation stickers on nearly every table. It is Friday night but it is going like a summer fayre which is why I am outside typing this outside.

UPDATE I have just eaten the biggest fish and chips I have ever seen. The fish was hanging over the sides of a huge dinner plate. I guess I will cycle it off tomorrow.

Fowey Harbour