The diary of my walking is so arse numbingly boring to anyone without a paraticularly interest in that sort of thing, I have relegated it to a blog of its own. I'll try to keep it light hearted but, let's face it, walking will never be as fun as berating Mr Smith. So for those of you who wish to know about my achievements in putting one foot in front of the other I suggest you log on to mrssmithsbigwalk.blogspot.com.
I thought by sending Mr Smith off to America for golfies would lighten up the telly viewing a bit with wall to wall Corrie and Ant & Dec. How wrong I was. The Student and the Apprentice watch non-stop golf in the hope of spotting Mr Smith in the crowd and cheering on Tiger. I went to plan my big walk.
I discovered something great yesterday. If you ring a hotel and book a single room they think you might be a hotel inspector (especially if you give your name as Ruth Watson). I assured one hotel owner that, although I am not, he should treat me no differently to how he would a hotel inspector. It's quite nice with no inspector here for a few days though I have to admit things are getting very messy.
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