Even more kind people

The sponsorship donations are still coming in and yet more wonderful folk have opened their wallets to provide support for Morence and all at the Mpora Rural Family Home.

Joan Hoggan
Carolyn Scott
Alan Rowles
Liz Sadorge
Christine Gilbert
Gerard Davy
Rob English
Derek Coleman
Tim Goodall

The overall amount is looking very healthy and once all monies have been collected I will be delighted to reveal the final amount.

Feel free to email me at [my first and second name]@yahoo.co.uk if you want to know more about making an annual contribution.

Thanks!

How to pay your sponsorship

I'll be sending an email to everyone who has contacted me about sponsorship with full details but the basics are here:

There are three main ways of paying the sponsorship:

a) put the cash directly into my grubby little hands

b) send me a cheque payable to the Mpora Orphanage Fund (I will email my address to you)

c) do an internet banking transfer to the account (I will email full details)

If you have not heard from me and would like to make a contribution, please email me at [my first and second name]@yahoo.co.uk

Unfortunately we can't do gift aid or credit card donations at the moment so please bear with this clunky payment method.

Cheers!
Valerie

Your generosity knows no bounds - more splendid sponsors!

Since my last posting regarding sponsorship, even more lovely people have come forward to offer funds to the Mpora Rural Family Home. In no particular order they are:

Colly Myers
Jim Docking
Vero Musson
Kevin Sadler
Louise Wilson
David and Ondine Rowles
Kim O'Brien
Barbara Wharton
Carol Purcell
Ann McCarthy
Doug and Liz Trickett
Sheila Rowell
Cherry Douglas
Kathleen and Ed Colledge
Duncan Shepherd and Renate Hering
David and Bobby Anderson
Gerry Morrison
Tom and Sally O'Regan
Rowina Said
Simon Battle
Karen Marley
Fiona Parker

Thanks very much indeed for all your help!

Photographs part 3 - The Evidence!

Did I really do it? Hopefully this is all the proof you need:

At the source of the Thames in a remote Gloucestershire meadow, not far from Cirencester. Can you detect that slight concern that I may have bitten off more than I could chew?

At the end of the first day in.... well you can see where I am. What you may not be able to tell is that I am womanfully concealing the fact that my back has gone into spasm and I need some serious drugs or at least an ibuprofen.

Cuddling up to Old Father Thames at St John's Lock, the first Lock on the river. This is at Lechlade which calls itself the second township on the Thames. Can a place without a single cashpoint actually be called a town?

Yes, that really is me. Those of you who know of my distaste for total immersion into cold water will be astonished. But it was surprisingly pleasant on a humid and sultry Saturday afternoon in August. I didn't even really mind the the weeds, mud and fish nibbling at my toes.. well not too much. That's an extra fiver you owe me Nick!

At Teddington Locks, the penultimate and most elaborate lock system on the Thames with my good friend Fiona who lives there. Well, not actually in the lock of course.

Having a cosy chat with Dr Salter in Rotherhithe. I know just how to deal with these local types.

At the end with my big nephew Sonny. You may have noticed that I am wearing the same walking clothes all the way through. (I did wash them occasionally). Can you imagine what a personal sacrifice that is for someone who used to work at London College of Fashion??

Photographs part 2 - Some of My Wonderful Walking Partners

Amazing Aussie Trish who drove me to Lechlade and accompanied me for the first two days

Bill 'rough diamond' Batchelor; about to tell me to send another question to AQA

Zimbabwean iron man, Colly Myers

Dom Rowles - who walked with me from my B&B to the pub and back in Pangbourne - good effort mate!

Dad, Mum, Me and Uncle Alan - see the family resemblance?

Billie George Rowles - a lady with an appetite

Sonny Ray Rowles who assures me on a regular basis that he's a 'big boy now'

Thanks also to: Gill Higgins, Nick Healey, Fiona Parker, Karen Smith and Gabrielle Rowles as well as Jo Payne who didn't walk with me but came all the way to Oxford to pick me up and took me back again the next day refreshed and revitalised.

Some photographs from the Thames Path Challenge 28 July to 11 August 2006

Here in all their technicolour glory are some of the snaps I took along the way. Where possible I have managed to insert relevant pic's in the earlier posts but this has sometimes defeated my limited software skills. So here, for better or worse, is the PROOF!

The Thames from young infant to adolescent.... as opposed to old father

Really hardly more than a puddle about a couple of hours into the walk, near Ewen

Flowing through the lovely village of Ashton Keynes

Beyond Cricklade, near to Eysey Manor

The Ha'penny Bridge at Lechlade, with the river only just navigable

Between Old Man's Bridge and Rushey Lock on day 3

The medieval Newbridge and the Rose Revived Pub, both in Cotswold Stone.

Whitchurch-on-Thames in Oxfordshire

More photos to come.

Day 15 - Waterloo to Thames Barrier - Friday 11 August

Distance: 13.5 miles
Time: 5 hours 3 mins
Walking Partners: Uncle Alan (Waterloo to North Greenwich); Dad, Bek, and Sonny (North Greenwich to Thames Barrier and the END!)
Accommodation: Home

Three miles in on the last day and still smiling.

Catching the train up to Waterloo with the commuters seemed a strange way to start my last day of the Thames Path Challenge. Two weeks ago with Trish I had passed a day walking through rural Gloucestershire and we saw only one other person on the trail. Even a week ago walking from Pangbourne to Sonning I had spent much of the walk in open fields with one or two dog walkers. My expectation was that it would be a get-it-over-and-done-with kind of route march with little of interest to see as I know (or thought I knew) London pretty well. But being in reality a West End girl, the path after Tower Bridge was completely new and totally fascinating. Even Uncle Alan who worked man and boy in the city was staggered by the refurbishment and renewal of places like Wapping and Rotherhithe. All very des res these days. He did still seem to have a homing instinct for most of the pubs in the area though, with a memory of some misdemeanour in each one which is why I presume we weren't able to go into any of them.

Uncle Alan, being a senior gent, was only expecting to walk to Tower Bridge with me but after we stopped for a coffee at the Blue Print Cafe at the Design Museum he declared himself to be fit to carry on and eventually did 11 and a half miles with no sign of weariness whatsoever. I keeping my fingers crossed that I've inherited those Rowles genes!

There were lots of historical plaques and little nuggets of trivia in the guide book to make us feel that we were learning loads about ye olde London town though inevitably I can barely remember any of it now. But it was really interesting at the time... We lunched at the delightful Cafe Nabo in the Surrey Docks Farm where you can sip on your latte surrounded by the sights, sounds (and smells) of a variety of farmyard animals which feels faintly incongruous with Canary Wharf in the background.

This was our view for a very long time.

After Rotherhithe we entered Deptford which I would say, how shall I put it, is a bit tasty. The route goes away from the river for a whole section and you walk through parks which give you a strong inclination to clutch your valuables to your breast and avoid eye contact as you step over the cans of Tennents Extra and Strongbow. I did feel more at ease having Uncle Alan with me if only to laugh nervously at the benefits of witnessing the rich tapestry of human life while on the walk. You can take the girl out of safe suburbia, but can you take suburbia out of the girl?

We went past the Cutty Sark in Greenwich and then through the part of the Thames walk that demonstrates how much of a working river it still is, with factories on each bank and heaving industrial plants vibrating, gurgling and cranking as you go. With the bend of the river being so marked (think of the opening credits of Eastenders) it is really disconcerting to see some buildings over and over again from different angles. You never seem to be more than a couple of miles from the Gherkin and from the Isle of Dogs however long you've been moving. The walk around the Millenium Dome is rather desolate, stuck on the tip of a peninsula in what appears to be an abandoned wasteland. There is a huge temptation to take a short cut across the middle (fear not! I would never do such a thing) except for the fact that you would inevitably get lost. Two miles from the end I bid farewell to randonneur extraordinaire Uncle Alan as he delivered me into the care of my final companions for the last part of the journey: Dad (he of imminent hip operation fame), Bek (sister-in-law and superlative fine artist) and Sonny (adorable nephew).

.

My stirling young walking partner leads me to the end.

By now the end was in sight with the Thames Barrier looking, as my guide book puts it, like a line of giant monks crossing the by now extraordinarily wide Thames. You can tell that the sea is close here; sea gulls, a certain salty ozone and the obvious tidal nature of the river. The sky looks very big here as the flood plain is wide and flat. Just before the end of the trail there is a profile of the river Thames etched into the concrete wall showing the height of the river at the start (105 metres) and how it comes down to sea level over 180 miles. When you look at it like that, it does seem quite a long way

Look at where I started!

Through the tunnel you finally come to a sign which marks the official end to the Thames path, or the beginning if you fancied doing the whole thing in reverse. I rather like the last line of my guide book which reads: 'Here, beyond the Barrier, you have a satisfying sense that the river you have followed from its first modest trickle is opening out to its estuary, ready to greet the sea.'

The official end!

After taking lots of photos we looked around for somewhere to go for a celebratory drink. The Barrier visitor centre and cafe being closed meant that we had to go hunting in Woolwich, not generally known for its gastro pubs and in the end we stopped at the rather extraordinary St Clair's Pub. It turned out to be emminently appropriate in its exact opposition to the gorgeous Red Lion where I had my first pint of Real Ale of the trip two weeks ago. There was obviously no real ale available at the St Clair's. The staff and clientele were ethnically diverse and no one spoke with a west country accent. MTV was blaring out from one TV and sports fixtures from another and had we waited a couple of hours we would have been treated to a display from the exotic dancers. But the barman was lovely and came to shake my hand when my Dad (as Dads will) told him about my challenge. He performed a fabulous trick with a pint of lager for Sonny who was as enchanted by that as he was by the 'dancing' decorative lights and the cheese and onion crisps. All in all, a rather marvellous end to a wonderful adventure.

Celebrations at the rather salubrious St Clair pub in Woolwich

The starring plates of meat

Day 14 - Barnes Bridge to Waterloo - Thursday 10 August

Distance: 11.25 miles
Time: 3 hours 51 mins
Walking partners: Gabrielle and Billie George Rowles (from Hammersmith to Vauxhall)
Accommodation: Home

My youngest walking partner to date, though 'walking' might be overstating her contribution

A slightly earlier start than anticipated due to Archie Rowles' decision to come and wake up his Auntie Dow and Uncle Bull at 6am. CBeebies is a wonderful thing.

Having dispatched said young man to go visiting with his cousin in Acton, I set off from Barnes Bridge to meet up with his mother and sister at the Riverside Studios in Hammersmith. A slightly damp morning giving atmospheric views over the river from Hammersmith Bridge. Georgie obliged us by having a good long sleep as we made our way down river to Putney, past some minor league football ground I believe. The way became much harder thereafter with lots of diversions through building sites and up busy roads in Wandsworth, Clapham and Battersea - a kerb and obstacle nightmare for most pushchairs but no match for Gabs 'guerilla mum' Rowles.

We stopped for lunch at the Thai Riverside Terrace in Battersea with a pleasing outlook onto the rich denizens of Chelsea Harbour across the river. Luckily Battersea Park provided a brief interlude of greenery before we were back in the pollution and thundering traffic noise of the north embankment leading up to Vauxhall - what a difference to a week ago.

Gabs went in search of a tube station without escalators to get home and I continued under ever darkening clouds back over Lambeth Bridge and towards one of the most famous views of London Town. On a day when an alleged terrorist conspiracy has had the country in its grip, the capital's skies seem aptly foreboding. In fact what they mainly predicted was that I was about to get doused in a short sharp shower.

A disrupted stroll through the throng of tourists around the London Eye brought me quickly to my destination of the South Bank Centre near Waterloo. I indulged myself in a cup of tea at my beloved National Film Theatre and pondered that I only have one day left of my personal walking odyssey. I actually feel really sad that it is nearly all over. What will I do with myself when I get up on Saturday and have no walking to do?

Got the tube home in reflective mood.

Day 13 - Teddington to Barnes Bridge - Wednesday 9 August

Distance: 8.5 miles (technically a rest day)
Time: 2 hours 41 mins
Walking partner: none
Accommodation: Home Sweet Home

Richmond road and rail bridges and Twickenham bridge in the distance

After a very nice breakfast with the Parkers, I set off again in drizzley weather along the towpath that I know so well from my training. Being on familiar territory felt quite strange although it was satisfying to know that there would be no nasty surprises with the mileage signs as I knew exactly how long each stage would take.

This was meant to be a rest day of sorts to enable me to get home, do some washing, catch up on emails and dump the pack for the rest of the trip so there was definitely a spring in my step as a contemplated being able to wear some different clothes - what a treat!

There are nice landmarks along this stretch; Ham House, Marble Hill House, the Star & Garter up on Richmond Hill, Kew Gardens and Syon House. I also passed my last lock and the largest on the Thames at Richmond after which the Thames is tidal and looks dramatically different with large 'beach' areas and mud at certain times of day. Strand on the Green, the nearest bit of the river to my home, looked pretty and peaceful across the river as I made my way to Barnes Bridge.

I was collected by my very considerate sister-in-law Bek with nephew Sonny in tow to save my legs the mile and half walk home. Bill, who is incapable of setting foot inside a supermarket, had left the cupboard relatively bare but to be honest I was dreaming of my bed and retired for a quick snooze only to find that I had slept away for two and a half hours. Blimey, I really was tired!

My next walking partners, sister Gabs and neice Georgie arrived with Georgie's big brother for an evening of here-comes-the-train-in-the-tunnel type food coaxing (and that was just me), let's-drench-Auntie-Val baby bathtime and read-me-another-story bed avoidance tactics. I loved it!

Bill redeemed himself for the fridge fiasco by arriving home with a take-away curry for the adults and a relaxing evening of TV dinnering ensued.

Day 12 - Shepperton to Teddington - Tuesday 8 August

Distance: 11 miles
Time: 3 hours 44 mins
Walking partners: Karen Smith and Fiona Parker (Two qualified nurses whose professional opinion was that several of my toes will need to be amputated. Either that or get a pedicure, I forget.)
Accommodation: Fiona's house in Teddington

My glamourous walking partners on day 12

Day 12 dawned clear and bright and we three St Andrews Alumni skipped out of bed and made breakfast in our kitchen (it was a bit of a BYO type B&B, or maybe DYO). To say that we reciprocated noise levels for the benefit of our upstairs neighbours would not be exactly true, but seeing as we all went to a catholic school I'd have to admit it's not exactly a lie...

I met Fiona and Karen when we were twelve years old (you'll see from the photo that than can only have been about 10 years ago.) Even at twelve there was a certain emphasis on, how shall we put it, personal presentation in the face of which I can only stand in awe. It was therefore no surprise to discover that Fiona's day pack contained, one large make-up bag, one hairdryer, one set of hair straighteners, two changes of clothing, two pairs of shoes and a pair of Prada sunglasses and was in fact about three kilos heavier than mine. Annoyingly they are both incredibly fit, with Karen having recently completed the 26.2 mile Moon Walk; they barely seemed to notice their loads and even offered to carry mine.

Our walk started with a free lift from Ann to the tow path as well as sponsorship for Mpora for which I am trully grateful. We then caught the small ferry (with a ferryman who, as Fiona put it, seemed to have had a charisma bypass. Personally I thought we were being incredibly witty,) to the Weybridge side of the river. It was a lovely shady walk with glimpses of riverside chalets and house-boats all the way to Walton on Thames. In fact I'm surprised I can remember anything about the scenery as we were on a marathon gossip fest for the entire journey. Before we knew it we were at Hampton Court having a coffee break and then all the way through Kingston for a lunch of tapas (which though bearing little relation to what we'd actually ordered was really quite ok) at The Boaters. The last stretch to Teddington Locks was a doddle.

Fiona lives very near the lock with her family (Mathew, Jessie and Harvey) in a lovely house and once again it was rather like experiencing a high class spa day with luxurious bath elixirs complete with adjoining gin and tonic, michelin starred cuisine courtesy of Ms Parker and a fantastic night's sleep in the bed that kindly Jessie had given up for me. Sylvia, another school friend joined us for supper and said all the right things about how fit I was looking (pfff) and not how tired I seemed (which is more accurate.)

Day 11 - Windsor to Shepperton - Monday 7 August

Distance: 14.5 miles +
Time: 4 hours 56 minutes
Walking partner: Nick Healey (for the first hour and 47 mins - a stirling effort given his string of cricket-related injuries (?))
Accommodation: Littleton Nurseries B&B, Shepperton Green

Breakfasted alone and early and left to meet Nick by Windsor bridge for 9am. The rain of the night (which required a midnight flit from the top of the house down to the garden to rescue my clothes) had turned to a slight drizzle so for only the second time of the trip I was in my waterproofs and sporting an umbrella.

Nick turned up on cue and we began a very pleasant stroll from Windsor through Datchet and on towards Runnymede Common past meadows giving different views of the castle which dominates this slow and lazy bend of the river. Monday morning was quiet on the water with hardly any boats on the move compared to the carnage between Maidenhead and Windsor of yesterday. Having been on the receiving end of a few ninety-mile an hour cricket balls during his 'friendly' tour of Cornwall, Nick stepped off the trail just before Runnymede and I continued alone.

A coffee break with flapjack at the tea hut opposite Magna Carta Island was enlivened by my dawning realisation that the carpark plays host to numerous secret assignations in this part of Surrey. One besuited gent jumping out of his swish company car to fulsomely embrace a young woman in flipflops who'd just parked her bashed up Clio and then getting her to follow him by car to some other destination could be said to be a fluke. But two? Aah, romance is alive and well in Staines.

The waterside leading up to Staines is diverting with lots of pretty bungalows and chalets decked with flowers suggesting, with all due respect to Ali G and his massive, that it's a good retirement destination. When I got to Staines it was starting to rain hard again so I opted to take a couple of hours break and amused myself by touring the shopping mall, eating a prawn sandwich from Boots and taking in a quick chick flick at the multi-plex. When I emerged the rain had gone and the sun had returned.

The last leg of this trip took in Chertsey and Shepperton. By now I had been under the M4 (yesterday), the M25 and the M3 and really felt that I was getting back to town. There were fewer and fewer open fields to encounter and I was quite sad when I read in the book that I had passed my last traditional Thames watermeadow scene. But time was ticking on and I was hoping to get to the B&B by 6pm to shower and rest before my two schoolfriends Fiona and Karen joined me. Shepperton Lock area looked pleasant enough and I made a mental note to return with the girls for a drink later. Little did I know that I had booked my B&B in Shepperton alright, but in the Shepperton which is in Outer Mongolia. Having done nearly 15 miles I was aghast to realise that I still had another 2 and a half miles to walk. To say I did it, with a grimace on my face is something of an understatement. I was hot. My back was soaked in sweat. I was grimy from the road I was trudging along (it is hardly an attractive route along a bypass crossing back over the M3.)

However the welcome I received from Ann McCarthy could hardly have been warmer. As it turns out, Ann is a stalwart fund-raiser herself and has years of experience of raising cash through sponsorship for, would you believe, another orphanage in Uganda. She supports Amigos International a charity that works in sub-saharan Africa, but also directly funds an independent project in Uganda. She has already raised over £7000 and a few years ago completed a 10,000km challenge in Ethiopia and Uganda travelling around by any form of transport she could. She is a fantastic lady and I can see why local papers have named her Shepperton's super granny.

The girls and I were actually staying in a house that Ann rents out mainly as long-term B&B lets and it took us back to student/nurse house-sharing days. We ordered in pizza, drank Asti Spumanti and talked and giggled till it was time for bed. In classic house-share style the only thing to disturb our slumber was the squeak, squeak, squeak of the bed springs above as the nocturnal activities of our co-guests began. Karen was convinced they were playing Yahtzee, but then she's not the romantic type.

Day 10 - Marlow to Windsor - Sunday 6 August

Distance: 14.5 miles
Time: 5 hours 25 mins
Walking Partner: Gillian Higgins (who will be walking the South Coast Way next week, climbing up and down cliffs and averaging 20 miles per day.... I am a mere amateur in her presence)
Accommodation: Barbara's B&B, Windsor (I'll avoid the obvious Eastender related jokes here..)

Today felt very long. Partly because it was so humid that we were dripping with sweat (try not to visualise that too accurately, it does not look pretty) 7 seconds after leaving the B&B but mainly because of the bane of the Thames Path walker's life... INACCURATE SIGNAGE (I know that all internet etiquette says don't use capitals because it seems like you're shouting, but I AM SHOUTING.) This poor mileage marking resulted in us believing we were vastly nearer to the end of the walk than we were and in having lunch too early - what can seem a near fatal error; it's a whole psychological mindfield you know.

My watch (specially purchased by gadget man Bill for the walk) was telling me that the temperature was 28.8 degrees c at 9.30am although I have to admit that I haven't worked out yet whether that's actually just the temperature of my wrist. Marlow to Maidenhead was a nice walk, past Bourne End and through Cookham. Maidenhead to Windsor though did leave something to be desired I must say. This was the start of the use of stony footpaths which, especially after hiking for ten days, is like have small elfins hammering with tiny pointed hammers into the soles of your feet everytime you touch the ground. And there was a strange smell of sun-heated urine (and maybe other even less desirable odours) wafting from the long grass verges - either the people of Windsor enjoy their al fresco comfort breaks or it was dog walker's haven.

On top of that, being Sunday, the whole of Berkshire seemed to have decided to cycle the towpath in the opposite direction to the way we were walking and they were evidently of the strong belief that it is in fact a Cycle path requiring little use of bells and no slowing down for any walkers who are in the way.

By the end of this long trawl we were not in a beauteous state. I was beginning to notice that when we passed by other, clean-looking people, I could detect fragrant perfumes and light and lovely laundry aromas as we shuffled past. It soon occurred to me that if I could smell them, they could, in all probability smell me and in all likelihood, I did not smell of recently washed laundry. Not a comforting thought.

Gill, bless her heart, was re-walking in her mountaineering boots complete with major league thick walking socks. She didn't moan once but I could tell from a slightly glazed look in her eye for the last 3 hours that he feet were being lacerated. All in all, there was a certain sense of manic relief when we turned into a field and the majestic sight of Windsor Castle towering over the river came into view.

Gill went off on her merry, hobbling way after a swift half in the Waterman's Arms and I went in search of my, again, long distant B&B. It was a very nice Victorian house and I had the only single room in the house which clearly in earlier eras would have been the scullery maid's room, tiny and at the top of the house. If I went in sideways I could just about carry my ruck sack in with me. Still Barbara's kindness meant I could put my clothes in her spin dryer having trampled them in the shower with my shower gel (I was determined to smell nice tomorrow!) and hang them on her line.

I went into Windsor for food and ended up having a culinary catastrophe that surpassed even my disgusting meal in Sutton Courtenay. I can't say I warmed to Windsor anyway. Loads of chain shops and restaurants that make it look the same as everywhere else even with a bloody great castle stuck in the middle of it and boy racers revving up and down the high street in the souped up Fiestas. I decided to buy a take-away and sit on a bench outside the castle to soak up the 'atmosphere'. The fact that 'Coffea' has a literacy problem should have warned me and combining two different European countries with a Spanish omelette panini was, in retrospect, bound to be plain wrong. It was the most foul concoction I have had in a very long time. Half a mouthful was all that I could manage before it went straight in the bin. In the end I bought a Muller rice pudding complete with plastic spoon from a Texaco garage and ate it in my room. I watched a programme reconstructing Scott's failed expedition to the South Pole and concluded that quite frankly he didn't have it so hard.

Day 9 - Sonning to Marlow - Saturday 5 August

Distance: 14.25 miles
Time: 4 hours 47 minutes
Walking Partner: Bill (carrying my pack again for me.... handsome and useful)
Accommodation: Granny Anne's B&B (which turned out to be in the environs of Marlow as opposed to being anywhere near the Thames Path; a late and slightly painful discovery.)

Had breakfast in the bosom of my family with the usual comparisons of vivid dreams and a competition to see who had slept least (my Mum won hands down as usual. She actually hasn't had a wink of sleep in about 45 years.) Shortness of sleep or perhaps just an inevitable hangover is usually the reason for ritual humiliation of one's children I guess so this must be why my Mum saw fit to make me sit throughout the whole of the breakfast meal in the saloon bar of the pub wearing electrodes on my bare shoulders while the electric shocks made me jig about in an attention-grabbing way. To be honest that's enough explanation, I can't face reliving the whole thing but let's just say other customers were giving me a wide berth.

Having been dropped off at our starting point it was clear that today was going to be a warmer day than I was used to. But the typical Thames waterside meadows and tree lined tow path gave us lots of shade initially and preparations for the Shiplake regatta provided regular diversion. Bill was in seventh heaven when we came across a riverside residence with it's own miniature railway line complete with scaled down station and platform, going round the large garden ('Look! It's even got points!' was heard to be uttered with undisguised glee. I'll leave you to imagine which one of us was thus thrilled.)

We stopped at Henley for coffee and surveyed the growing crowds enjoying the pleasure gardens. Boats stacking up at the locks to go to the regatta, joggers, tourists, sunbathers, picnickers, a ship full of stags singing tunelessly - a complete contrast to a week ago and 100 miles upriver.

We stopped for lunch at The Flower Pot at Aston and I ate a huge plate of sardines and a half pint of prawns. Plied with such delights I was thus fortified for my next mission at Memenham (try saying that with a mouth full of fishbones) which was to earn my extra sponsorship by taking a dip! (Photographic evidence will be provided.) I have to say that having negotiated the muddy bank and the foot-tenderising stones, it was a very agreeable experience. Really cooling on what was by now a hot and humid day. Bill came in as well and we sunbathed ourselves dry before moving onto Hurley and then Marlow.

The long hike up to the B&B was rewarded by a warm welcome from Roger Taylor (no, not that Roger Taylor) and his wife Anne. Having seen me to my door, Bill taxied back to Sonning to get his car and I awaited the arrival of Gill my next partner in crime for the Thames Walk Challenge. We dined in the perfectly adequate Cafe Uno (Marlow did seem to be chain-restaurant-city, mind you isn't everywhere?) and retired for an early night chez Granny Anne on a still and balmy night.

Day 8 - Pangbourne to Sonning - Friday 4 August

Distance: 10 miles
Time: 3 hours 25 minutes (yes, a rather slow day)
Walking partners: Dad and Uncle Alan (for, oooh, about a mile and a half.... these part-timers)
Accommodation: The Crown Inn, Playhatch

Knowing that I had a shortish day with a long gap in the middle meant that I had a leisurely breakfast alone in the soft toy and decorative plate sanctuary that was the Ferryboat Inn and then set off at 9ish. My first equipment failure (unless you count the disaster of the first backpack) was a snapped shoe lace. Aaah! practical repairs required! Fortunately it turned out to be not too technical even for me.

The way was pretty easy towards to Reading, though not the most picturesque of the journey. Some open fields to start then a diversion away from the river through a seemingly displaced Purley. Some pleasing texts from Sally and Brian and Jono again as I walked along.

I arrived at the less than beautiful metropolis of Reading to discover that the designated meeting place for finding my folks no longer existed so I went in search of an alternative landmark and due to my inept instructions ensured that Mum, Dad and Uncle Alan missed their lunch and nearly got a parking ticket in the process of waiting for me while I was dawdling around WH Smiths. Children are sooo ungrateful.

Dad and Uncle Alan joined me for the last stretch to Sonning which though a beautiful spot, was the location of the pub where I have been served the worst pint to date. I'd steer clear of the Great House Hotel if I were you - the fact that parking there is nigh on impossible will probably ensure that it will never have your custom anyway. (Never ask my Dad to remember a code to unlock the gate across a carpark for future reference.)

Fortunately our inn for the night at Playhatch, (my only luxury accommodation of the trip - excluding the 5 star treatment I had at Jo's and subsequently at Fiona's) was absolutely gorgeous though not without some trial and tribulation for me. Keen to take advantage of the fabulous-looking ensuite for my ablutions I jumped in the shower only to discover that no hot water was to be had. Having rung reception who sent a man over to establish that I wasn't just a customer who can't distinguish between the hot and cold tap, the only option was to gather up my belongings now spread over the entire space and to move rooms. Clearly the sensible thing was to do this while only wearing a small hand towel, especially as it involved going outside. It was equally sensible to lock the room keys inside the room while I was outside the room, obviously. Bill, who had joined us a the pub, wearily went back to reception to explain....

Superb meal at the Crown. I highly recommend it.

Day 7 - Goring to Pangbourne - Thursday 3 August

Distance: 4 miles
Time: 1 hour 29 mins
Walking partner: None
Accommodation: The Ferryboat Inn, Whitchurch on Thames

Today was effectively a day off as I wasn't sure how I would be feeling after yesterday's herculean (by my standards) efforts. I had loads of time to kill in the morning so I went to Goring library ( a slice of Berkshire village life there I can tell you. The lady librarians would be very kind and helpful to everyone who came in and then launch into a character assasination of each library user as soon as they left - God knows what they said about me especially as one of their computer's crashed while I was using it) to use the internet.

Then I was walking again. Good thing I'd planned such a short stroll as for really the first time ever I had to go uphill. The Thames cuts through the Chilterns at Goring Gap and where the tow path runs out you have to climb (and I use that term advisedly) up the escarpment to get around the chalk cliffs. A mere nothing I'm sure if you are not carrying 7kgs (I've bought some bits and pieces en route) on your back.

Should that first 'G' be a 'B'?

I arrived at my night's accommodation just across the toll bridge at Pangbourne just after lunch and profited from a good old siesta and some daytime TV - fabulous. The Ferryboat Inn is a fairly eccentric pub inside with as many stuffed animals and soft toys on every surface as I think I have ever witnessed. Some of the trinkets in my room have to be seen to be believed (photos to come later).

A quick stroll around Pangbourne including a brief interlude in the organic supermarket where I haemorraged most of my cash as one tends to do in this sort of establishment (but I needed some dragonfly lipsalve, nettle and manure emolient and tonic of frogskin desperately....).

My brother Dom called by on the way back from work to take me out for a drink and meal at the Swan Hotel in Pangbourne. Sitting outside facing the weir and watching the sun go down replete with good food (it's a much better pub than it looks) - all very pleasant indeed.

Day 6 - Culham to Goring - Wednesday 2 August

Distance: 18.5 miles
Time: 5 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds
Walking partner: Colly Myers (Zimbabwean uber-fit marathon and triathlon man, bush-hunter gatherer extraordinaire and founder of formerly mentioned AQA)
Accommodation: Streatley Youth Hostel

Colly having made the supreme sacrifice of rising at 6am and training it out to deepest Oxfordshire, I did not linger over breakfast and we set off at a cracking pace on the longest walking day by 8.15am. It's hard to slow down a man who generally walks or runs 120 miles a week, but Colly gallantly endeavoured to go at what must have been snail's pace for him. These born and bred Africans know the meaning of living in the wild. The comparatively manicured environs of the Thames trail may not be the jungle exactly, but Colly did battle with a massive and entangled tree fallen across a bridge on our path nearly losing his prescription sunglasses to the bottom of the river mud in the process. And I never knew how much free food there is around! Colly picked at least three different types of plum, apples, berries and more. I shan't be bothering to go to the supermarket ever again.

A coffee break at Shillingford Bridge Hotel was followed by an indifferent pub lunch at The Boathouse in Wallingford which seemed to be obsessed with issuing written instructions or rhetorical statements to its clientele. "The management requires customers to wear shirts in the bar", "Only a driving licence [sic] or passport are acceptable forms of identity"; "Parents are reponsible for their children", "You may be shirt-free on the terrace", "Leave our premises quietly" - all reasonable stuff I suppose except that there were about 25 notices plastered over every surface. Mind you, this is a pub that serves a shot called 'urine sample' so perhaps no more needs to be explained.

In future, the Beetle and Wedge at Moulsford looks a good location for a long, langourous lunch but Colly and I headed instead for the Swan Hotel at the end of our walk and a cream tea. Hugely satisfying to know that all necessary calories required had already been burnt off.

I haven't stayed in a YHA for about 28 years I think so I didn't know quite what to expect but it was all very nice and friendly, if not quite the Sheraton. I was in a dorm, fortunately just with one other lady. There was a lounge and a dining room and my dinner of jacket potatoes only cost £2.50. I washed my clothes by hand and hung them up in the drying room, which I think should be renamed the doesn't-dry-but-leaves-your-clothes-damp-and-musty-room.

But the main pleasure of the evening was meeting the charming Vogrig family from near Auxerre in France (think Chablis, Pouilly Fuisse etc). Sylvie and Bruno are in the UK on holiday with their delightful kids Mickael, Helena and Estelle. They have found British people to be courteous and helpful (and yes, they have been to London) and they seem to be having a lovely time. Mickael (14) and Helena (12 and a half) are really keen to find penfriends/exchange partners in the UK to practice their already promising English. They are super kids so if anyone has offspring who might be interested, let me know.

Not wishing to wake up my room mate when I went to bed I deliberately didn't turn on the light. This resulted in me cracking my nose on the upper bunk and bruising my back on the steps. What with that and the appearance of a liver spot on my cheek due to overexposure to wind and sun I'm not sure what I will look like at the end of this adventure. It's a good thing that it's all in aid of a decent cause....

Day 5 - Oxford to Culham - Tuesday 1 August

Distance: 12 miles
Time: 4 hours 9 mins
Walking partner: None
Accommodation: Appletree Cottage B&B, Sutton Courtney

Half a bottle of Rioja the night before not withstanding, I set off from Osney Bridge in Oxford by 9.15am. The view of the city from the river gives you a different experience of Oxford. Greener, quieter and with the glimpses of dreaming spires and nice-looking pubs - lovely.

There are several locks along this stretch including a very pretty one at Iffley (these lock keepers seem to be prolific gardeners) but there was also a more urban feel to the river than previously with graffittied road bridges and fairly constant traffic noise from nearby roads.




Then I was back in the pastures with the cows and the yellow wheat fields looking ripe for harvest (yes, I've become a complete agricultural expert now).

There was a bit of a long haul to Radley and then onto Abingdon but I amused myself with playing tag with passing barges and pleasure craft. One boat in particular, improbably named 'Bimbi', that I'd been seeing for 2 days, got into the spirit of the game with the crew cheering uproariously everytime they passed me by and yours truly giving a smug smile as I skipped across the lock in front of them. It's the small things that keep you going.

Dark clouds loomed over when I reached Abingdon which gave me all the excuse I needed for a coffee and cake stop then the last few miles to Culham were enlivened by encouraging calls and texts. (Thanks Louise and Jono.)

A nice and restful evening ensued although I did have a dining disaster at The Swan Inn in Sutton Courtney where I made the mistake of ordering something vegetarian (clearly a rare occurrence at the Swan). Vegetable gratin turned out to be a bowl of warm cream containing one or two mange-touts and a couple of pieces of carrot. Cholesterol death on a plate. I managed about 2 mouthfuls before an intense feeling of liver malfunction came over me (and this from the woman who will gladly munch through a plate of fois gras.) Not exactly the carbo-loading opportunity I was looking for.