"A long walk in a sad rain..."
Short version: I once helped my sister move from Nottingham to Norwich and by a convoluted chain of events hitched and walked my way back to London via Nottingham over what might be some of the crappest 24 hours of my life.

Firstly, there wasn't room in the van for me up front, so I sat in the back in the dark, for the entire journey from Nottingham to Norwich. This probably explained my subsequent bad mood and no doubt contributed to whatever it was my sister and I fell out over. I don't remember and happily it's an anger that hasn't stood the test of time. I left the next day to go back to London, too proud after our argument to ask to borrow some money to buy food/drinks etc on the way (or even the bus fare to the centre of Norwich, she had moved to Bowthorpe which is some way from the station). I couldn't take a direct route to London as my return coach ticket was from Nottingham to London (return tickets being vastly cheaper than two singles). My sister's partner had to return the van to Nottingham and he bought a return train ticket to Norwich and I travelled back to Nottingham on his unused return portion.

So far so good.

By the time I got to Nottingham coach station the last coach of the day had left, the next one was at 6.30am the following morning. It was about 4pm by then. I had no money, no food and didn't know anyone in Nottingham. I thought to myself, I'll hitch back to London, that will be quicker than waiting for the coach (coach stations are pretty unpleasant places to hang around too).

First I tried hitching to the motorway, nothing doing there, ended up walking the whole way to the nearest m-way junction. Although I had hitched a bit before I didn't know the first thing about it. So I was waiting far too near to the entry road to the motorway and therefore no-one wanted to slow down and stop. A few really, really funny people stopped and then drove off as I was almost at their car doors. Hilarious, really; if you are a driver I implore you to give this witty gag a go, you'll earn yourself many new friends this way. You twats.

It started to get dark and I considered walking back into Nottingham but eventually a battered old Ford Cortina stopped and picked me up. The owners were a really odd looking couple - he was really short and could barely see over the steering wheel and she just sat and twitched for most of the trip. They weren't going to London but were heading for the M25 and said they would drop me at the service station before so I could pick up a ride into London. Only they didn't stop, they sailed straight past it without comment.

"Er, wasn't that where you were going to drop me off" I asked, a bit nervous by now.

"You'll be fine with us" the driver said, "just stay in the car." No threats or anything, they just wouldn't stop and wouldn't let me out.

They turned off for the M25 - "Where are we going?" I asked - "Cambridge, you'll be fine".

It was just way too odd and I was really uncomfortable and shouted "Let me out of the car NOW! Let me out, let me out, let me out!"

They pulled to a stop, I got out quickly and they left me there at the side of the motorway - or the access road , it was fairly wide at least. I ran across the road and walked back down a big embankment and was then back on the M1, still some distance from my home in Kentish Town.

I walked down the hard shoulder for a bit, you don't realise just how *fast* motorway traffic is until you're walking along side it at night with vehicles hurtling past at 80-90 miles per hour, only a few feet away from you - I tried walking on the embankment for a bit but it was too slow going and I kept tripping over in the dark. After a while, a police car stopped and picked me up, they left me by a roundabout on the A41 saying "You'll get a lift from here, no problem" the lying, lying gits. Not that many cars passed and none of them stopped.

I hadn't eaten anything since the morning and it was now well into the night. I decided to walk the rest of it as no-one was stopping. I was hungry and thirsty and exhausted and didn't have a clue how far I had to walk, later checks showed it was only about 16-18 miles and I had walked further than that loads of times. The difference was that those times I had planned for a long walk, had the right kit, food and water. I had no morale at all and even less energy.

So there I was plodding along slowly, feeling very sorry for myself; I passed a big house on my left and thought "I wonder if they have food? Could I break in, grab some food and drink and leg it before they catch me?" I don't think I was seriously thinking about it but the idea was soon dispelled by the angry barks of their alsatian which was loose in their grounds. Although initially scared I felt reasonably safe with the dog behind their fence so walked on. The dog kept up with me (still behind the fence) barking all the time.

"Pretty stupid dog" I thought. Until the fence ran out and then so did the dog, right at me. I swung my bag at it a few times and eventually it left me alone - it had done it's job after all. Quite shaken now, even more tired and more hungry I walked on.

I could see I was near the outskirts of London proper by now but couldn't keep going anymore. I stopped and just lay down on the grass verge by the side of the road, trying to sleep. Then it started raining and didn't stop.

So I got up and kept walking. It was getting light by now (and was still raining). The nearest friends I had were in Golder's Green at that time, so I decided to walk to there. Very, very hungry and thirsty by now, I started eying up recently delivered milk bottles on people's doorsteps. Now I *hated* milk back then. Couldn't drink the stuff, I would have thrown up if I had tried to drink it usually. Being properly hungry and thirsty (I think that over 20 hours without food and water counts as hungry and thirsty) my perspective changed somewhat - food *and* drink in one handy package! I normally don't steal but one pint of milk later I was a much happier man.

After that, the walk to Golder's Green wasn't too bad - cup of tea and the price of a single ticket to Kentish Town later and I was quickly home.

To find my landlord Arv waiting on my doorstep to tell me I had to move out by the end of the summer. I have had better days.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 7 Sep 2006, 17:20, Reply)