Friends and family,

You find me balanced precariously on a stool, in a campsite, in St. Malo. My being on this stool represents the culmination of 12 days of foot-powered travelling (and a little help from a ferry). Now, before I set-off on this journey I had high ambitions for writing lots on this blog yet I suspect they will not be fully realised as:

1) The french (cue one of Seth’s favourite gripes) in a bid to remain individualistic and to prove to the world that they will not be bullied by the forces of globalization, have truly bizarre keyboards. For example, to produce the @ sign requires the pressing of 3 buttons simultaneously, while accessing the number keys requires pressing shift. I would like to go on record that, “I am not happy about this”.

2) The Internet is relatively expensive and I am practicing being poor.

3) Sometimes we say more by saying less (profound, non?).

Thus, updates will be brief and snappy with emphasis on pretty pictures.

Greg and I have walked approximately 135 kms thus far, London to Portsmouth and then a brief stroll in St. Malo. We began our journey having attended a 7am mass in Westminster Cathedral, Friday 1st June 2007. Having walked out of London, we then followed the A3 for a brief while before using footpaths wherever possible to snake down to Portsmouth. We spent just one night in a campsite and the other walking days, camping at the side of footpaths.

Highlights and key learning's:

Walking can be tiring. Especially while carrying everything you need for four months on your back. I’m not convinced I thought enough about this factor before agreeing with Greg that walking for four months would be “fun”. Note-to-self, be less ready to agree to ambitious schemes while drinking with a friend.

My tent is very small. No smaller than that. I am not very small. Problematic, no?

Green is good, brown and grey are bad. We like forests and scenery, not following "A" roads.

Walking all day makes even badly made tea with powdered milk, seem like an impossibly luxurious experience.

We both snore. Loudly. Previously, I used to blame this phenomena on booze. On walking days, we do not drink. Thus I am forced to acknowledge my nasal disability.

Do talk to strangers. More often than not, they are good people with wisdom to share.

On day 6 I went “ketonic”. I’m still waiting for my certificate but Greg assures me that the reward will be in weight loss. Apparently, a person is “ketonic” when they burn more calories than they consume. A sign of this is that (and I’m quoting Greg here) “your breathe smells like pear drops”. Mine seemed more reminiscent of "eau de sewer", but hey, weight loss is weight loss so I’m not concerned.

Again on day 6, we spoke to a farmer. He was very interested in our journey yet enquired as to how we were going to make the return journey. Upon telling him we would fly back he mused “I see, well that’s your carbon foot-print fu%$ed right there”. No impressing some people.

Travel lodge hotels are cheap yet inexplicably depressing. This we learnt while staying in one for two nights in Portsmouth.

And finally, the men of Portsmouth have unfeasibly large forearms.

Right, I'm off for a stroll...