A Ship Called Dignity

Well I had a reyt good night’s sleep I did, me. In a bed. I had a shower too, but the door to the shower from the corridor of the B&B was only a couple of feet from the door to the shower. I got in and stripped off, pulled the shower door back and couldn’t get round because the door to the corridor was in the way. Naked I had to make a big decision. I opened the door to the corridor, stepped out, pulled the shower door further back, got in, put my hand round and shut the corridor door. Nobody there, nobody saw my willie.
Oh God! How juvenile can I get? How about this?
Nobody saw my willie or my titties.

A great breakfast this morning. Ate lots and not needed anything other than a can of sardines and a potato salad for the rest of the day. The day has been phenomenally warm and clear at times. I thought Plymouth was a cackhole but the route walks around the docks and bays for 8 miles before heading down the coast. First thing the sun was out and the air was still. The place had a Mediterranean feel with terraces on the sea wall serving breakfasts and hot drinks. These are seafront Plymouth photos.

There were lots of people swimming and lounging around in the sea saying how warm it was. What a day – but it made me sweat with the rucksack on my back and it was a long slog today – 15 miles to Wembury.

I was relieved that the Scots voted to stay part of the UK but if I’d been a Sweaty Sock I would have voted yes. I’ve only got a relatively few tracks loaded on my iPad but one of them is dedicated to Alex Salmond;
Almost Independence Day – Van Morrison.
I sometimes play it at night to help me get to sleep. There are noises in hedges when you’re tied up to them in an open tarp and whilst I’m not bothered by them they do keep me awake on occasions. Van the man sees them off. It’s a lovely song – 10 minutes of pure class.

Coming out of Plymouth there were a lot of abandoned boats rotting in shady coves. I spotted one of them, a ship called a Dignity. Set it up, set it up, set it up, set it up, set it up, set it up. Set it up again, set it up again,set it up again. Here it is, still clinging to some element of dignity but not far from disintegration.

What brasses me off – or at least one of the million things – is people seeing this sign and collecting their doggie doodahs in a plastic bag but leaving it by the side of the path or chucking it in a hedge. What is the point of preserving canine crap for future generations as opposed to:
A) putting it in the bins periodically provided.
B) leaving it outside a bag and scraping it underneath a hedge so children don’t step in it and it can eventually decompose.
It’s not just one or two examples, I must have seen dozens of crap-laden bags throughout my journey. Dirty Pillocks.

Anyway, there has been a major telegraph pole replacement exercise throughout the southwest. The new ones stand dark and resinous, oozing that lovely Pitch smell. I saw a weirdo sniffing them the other day,

Night Night.