Walking

I decide to stay one more day in Northhamptonshire to try to understand why Clare had such difficulty moving only four miles away from his village of Helpston.

I leave Clare Country to go visit a dear old pal who now resides in Grimsby, a town mercilessly mocked by every single person I mention it to. It wasn’t horrible.

Vic gets a min-taste of the pleasure of English country walking as we overnight in Stamford, so we can look at Burghley House, one of Clare’s places of employment.

Being an American with Clare issues at the pub in Helpston is clearly going to be one of the best nights of my life.

In which I arrive in Helpston but before my brain is exploded.

I thought I’d drop off my bags in Peterborough and then backtrack for a day of walking around St. Neots, but alas, the weather and my stupidity had me doing other things.

The first day of walking toward Helpston! I’m following the route written by the Clare Cottage, which in fact, is not on his route at all. Still, it’s scenic and not what I was expecting when I assumed I’d just trudge up the M1.