Around Britain

Day return Clacton-on-Sea was today's ticket. It was a grey day and the rain trickled down the train window. The train branched off the main line to Ipswich and Norwich after Colchester and called at Wivenhoe and Thorpe-le-Soken. I disembarked at Clacton to find the lavatories locked, even the one for the handicapped. I toyed with making a fuss but there were no station staff in sight and a queue had formed at the sole ticket office. Outside the station it was so cheerless I flirted with getting straight back on the same train and returning to London. But no, I had come this far and it was two months since I had done anything on the circuit.

I headed towards the sea past retirement homes. The front was bleak. I was alone with the wind. The sea was gun metal and seethed, threatening terrible things. Where land and sea met waves reared up, turned white and dashed over the railings along the promenade down by the beach huts. I stayed up above beyond the reach of the spray.

A plaque proclaimed that the army had attacked Essex in the vicinity of Holland-on-Sea in 1904 in the presence of the Duchess of Connaught and her family. Rather an expensive form of entertainment I would have thought even for the Royals.

Never had I seen so many beach huts. To assist those seeking a particular hut, they were divided into lettered sections starting with A and continuing at least to G. Clacton became Holland-on-Sea without detectable demarcation. In an open low-lying area beyond the houses, a Nature Reserve competed for space with a golf course. I walked and jogged behind a substantial sea wall into which were set fortified sections with firing vents. The Germans must have been expected here.

Frinton-on-Sea has a reputation for being different and assiduously defending itself against change. It resists the granting of alcohol licences and the opening of fish and chip shops. A tidy lawn runs alongside the sea. The houses are of superior quality and I couldn't see a hotel, a B&B or, for that matter, any commercial establishment whatsoever along the front all the way to Walton-on-the-Naze. The streets leading inland were called Cambridge, Eton, Raglan and Winchester. This enhanced the sense that Frinton aspired to higher values and would never brook descent to the depths of Clacton. Frinton had its own beach huts all the way along the coast to Walton. I walked beside them for a while as the sea was not so dangerous here. The beach huts were in two ranks with those behind only visible through the narrow gaps between the huts in the front row. Most of the huts were closed up permanently with corrugated iron or hardboard fixed over the full extent of the front facing wall. Others with padlocks in place were available for use by keyholders.

As Walton pier came near I was getting close to Walton Station. There is an hourly stopping service to Colchester Town and I caught the 1420 with under 10 minutes to spare. I knew that the hourly Liverpool Street service left from Clacton at 25 minutes past the hour. Both trains stopped at Thorpe-le-Soken and I wanted to change there. Presumable the trains would be timed so as to make this possible. As we approached the point were the two branch lines converged I could see the Clacton train running just behind ours. I duly made the connection.

I was out 1 hr 55 mins today.

Day return Walton on Naze from Liverpool Street. Day of brilliant sunshine often dazzling as it came at a low angle. Arrived Walton at 12.15 and set off towards the Naze. Being a seaside tourist town it was very quiet. Above the entrance to the pier it was proclaimed that the most wonderful sound in the world is the sound of children's laughter. Maybe, but should that sentiment be subverted to the commercial interests of the proprietors of an amusement arcade on a pier? John's Plaice presumably dispensed fish and chips in busier times. I liked Shirl's Shells and would happily have bought my whelks there if it had been open. A shop announcing Beach Hut Cover on its fascia board was hard to fathom. I suppose they provided maintenance and other services for beach hut owners. Walton had its own ample supply of these.

What is the Naze? I left the houses behind me and came into an open area above some earthy cliffs. These looked unstable and notice boards with big red lettering confirmed this. I could see out over the sea to Harwich and perhaps Felixstowe as well. Is Naze a corruption of “nez”? One could say that this piece of land sticks out like a nose into the sea but it's a bit far fetched. No enlightenment was available on the site. As I advanced north I saw that the land fell away. The map indicated a series of marshy islands stretching out to Stone Point. Actually they looked quite solid with plenty of vegetation and I couldn't see that there were gaps where the sea came in at high tide. Nevertheless I didn't descend but turned to the left retaining height and soon came back to the built up area near the sewage works. I jogged back into Walton and took the B1034 towards Kirby-le-Soken. I passed a mobile home park near a Martello tower which advertised mobile homes for sale from £5,995. I didn't think that very cheap perhaps because I didn't want one anyway.

Beyond Walton the countryside to the right of the road opened out. Fields stretched down to an area where the sea has made serious inroads. Hamford Water looks like a river estuary on the map but only the most insignificant of streams flow into it. A forest of masts indicated the moorings of a fleet of boats. I had spotted these when on the Naze. Their hulls were now concealed by folds in the intervening land. I believe these boats are moored in The Twizzle, a creek off Walton Channel which runs between the Naze and Horsey Island. In any case they looked well protected from the sea.

I reached Kirby-le-Soken on a continuous footpath but thereafter I had to compete for space with the traffic on a narrow road. This was uncomfortable until I turned off the B1034 onto a minor road. On this road close to the junction with B1414 there was a really handsome Georgian house called New Hall. After turning right at the junction I was soon in Thorpe-le-Soken. Its station was well to the other side of the town in an area of dereliction. The Public House marked on the map near the station was a very large abandoned building. Next to the station was a maltings building, fenced off and with most of its roof tiles missing. The original station house was boarded up. The ticket office, signals room, waiting room and toilets were set on the platform between the two railway lines. This is just before the line splits between the separate destinations of Clacton and Walton. The ticket office was manned. The men's toilet was open but the women's was closed as a result of vandalism. The key was available on application to the ticket office. The adverts on the station had a number of stickers on them relating to an extreme right wing party. They gave a telephone number and an email address. The stickers advocated giving priority to British workers. Unemployment is now at its lowest level for 28 years. If British workers want a job they can get one. I suspect this group were more interested in denying work to those of foreign origin and enforcing their emigration.

I was out for 2 hrs 45 mins today.

After an unprecedented interval I resumed Around Britain today. I do so from my temporary home in Woodbridge where I expect to be for at least 4 months as building work is undertaken on my London home. Actually this new base is far more convenient for tackling the Essex and East Anglian coast line.

I caught the 65 bus at Old Barrack Road corner to Ipswich Station. There I bought a Day Return Thorpe-le-Soken. As I crossed the footbridge at my destination a young man close behind me spoke. People speaking to themselves can no longer be assumed mad due to widespread use of hands free mobiles. This person did seem to be of unsound mind so I accelerated out of the station area without making my haste too obvious.

I walked through the village (some way north of the station) to the junction on the B1414 which I passed last December on my way from Kirby-le-Soken and the Naze. At this point a lorry approached with three men in bright yellow jackets sitting in the cab. One of them shouted at me. His enunciation was not clear but the gist was that I should get off the road. Shortly afterwards I turned off the B1414 on a lane leading off to the right to Beaumont Quay. I had planned to look at the quay to ascertain whether it was in use. A notice deterred me from this so I turned north again on a little used public footpath. This took me gently uphill back towards the B1414. I looked back from the higher ground down towards the marshy flats around Hamford Water. Beyond was the Naze and I could see the tower set back from the coast between The Naze and Walton-on-the-Naze.

Another spell on the B1414 took me past New Moze Hall and Old Moze Hall. I planned to turn right at Moze Cross where the B1414 turned sharp left. At once I was confronted by a notice stating that trespassers would be prosecuted under the Explosive Act 1875 and 1923. I was unfamiliar with this legislation but it raised the prospect of unexploded shells lying about. The track I planned to take was not marked as a public right of way so I turned back. Right on the junction was a house from which a man in his sixties now emerged. He told me that the industrial works I could see down towards the sea shipped explosives and other goods. He had lived in his house for 30 years and explosives used to be tested down there until they stopped in response to complaints. Subsequently explosives were tested underground. One could feel the ground shake and occasionally see a wisp of smoke. He had once been shown around the works on condition he didn't ask any questions. I said that sounded like the Ministry of Defence. I hadn't heard any news for several hours so I asked whether Kerry had conceded the American election to Bush. Apparently Bush had definitely won as he had prevailed in Ohio as well as Florida – two of the key states.

I proceeded along the B1414 for a short way and then turned right onto a path. This passed close to a 27 metre high point but I couldn't see the triangulation pillar indicated on the map. After a while I joined the track which had passed over the forbidden land earlier on and this soon brought me back to the B1414. I then saw a controlled entry point to the works. There was a barrier across the road and a manned shack. A notice suggested that this was the entrance to premises belonging to Exchem Organics.

I entered Little Oakley where there was a pub and a number of fairly modern houses. I escaped the B1414 at Faulton Hall where an enormous dog and a minute one both barked at me furiously from the other side of a gate. My track soon crossed over the Essex Way. This led down to the sea shore but I ignored it as it added quite a bit to the distance. I could see a line of new houses ahead which announced Harwich. I entered on the south side and approached Dovercourt. I saw a circus set up on open land by the sea. A colourfully dressed man with a false moustache approached me on the pavement. He said he was a rocketeer who had lost his rocket. If I found it would I please ring a number that he would give me. Surmising he was from the circus I said I would and he gave me two sheets of paper. I later saw that these were flyers for the circus. Shortly afterwards I met a juggler who remained silent. A notice on the front indicated there was a passenger ferry to Shotley and Felixstowe. On the front there were a couple of lighthouses, one on the front and the other a short distance out at sea. These had been restored in 1985.

It was approaching dusk shortly after 4 pm and the starlings were aloft. Several clouds of them wheeled in the sky. The clouds sometimes collided and would fly through each other or merge. Some of the birds tried to settle. They sat on a flag pole and on the ropes supporting it. Others colonised a mobile telephone mast. In serried ranks they sat on both the level and sloping metal sections that made up the tower.

I came into the old part of the town. It had received a charter in 1381 and was the home of the Mayflower in 1611. Since it sailed from Plymouth I wondered whether Mayflower was built here. A pond was part of the old moat that used to protect the town on the south west side. There was a sign to Redoubt Fort built to repel Napoleon. I reached Harwich Town Station the end of the line from Manningtree. I took this train back to Manningtree via Harwich International.

I was out for 3 hrs 24 mins between Thorpe-le-Soken and Harwich stations.

My Senior Rail Card having expired a month ago, I had to pay extra for my day return to Harwich Town from Ipswich. I changed trains at Manningtree so I ate a sandwich at the station bar. This may have been the cause of the mild indigestion which affected me later. At Harwich Town I decided that I couldn't rush from this historic place so I wandered round Old Harwich.

Across Harwich Harbour I could see Shotley Gate and Felixstowe. The Harwich Society had placed informative white plaques on the walls of houses of particular interest. There were also boards in the street with additional information. Alfred had defeated the Danes in 885 at the point where the rivers Stour and Orwell meet. Isabella, wife of Edward II, had stayed at the Three Cups with her lover, Roger Mortimer. A board outside the naval shipyard listed the naval ships that had been built there. It gave the ship's name, the number of guns, the tonnage and the year of construction. The higher lighthouse was lined up with the lower lighthouse by approaching ships to give the correct route to harbour. Later the sand banks moved and the line was no longer safe. The two lighthouses became “the misleading lighthouses”. They fell into disuse and were replaced by the two iron lighthouses I saw last week.

The railway from Manningtree (called “the Mayflower line”) was built in 1854. Packets sailed across the Channel from Harwich. The fishing fleet thrived on Icelandic cod, declined and then rose again on prawns only to fall once more almost to nothing. Hostelries served the continental passengers waiting for a change in the weather. I walked along West Street – all old houses ending with the Custom House.

Eventually I came back to the station and set out through back streets to Dovercourt Station. A cycle path then took me between housing and the railway towards Harwich International Station and Port. Much litter had been left to lie on the ground and the undergrowth to the side of the path was unchecked. There was a generally unkempt air about Harwich once one left the old town. As the path rose I could see over the railway to the A120 with its mainly lorry traffic and beyond to the harbour and Felixstowe Port with its giant steel derricks lined along the water's edge. At the end of the track I reached a road. The path continued on the far side beside a river unnamed on the map. The path wended its way between the A120 and modern housing eventually losing all conviction so I had to turn back. I approached the port and found Essex Way via the controlled entry to a petrol refinery at Parkeston. For a while I walked alongside the white petrol storage holders with their staircases winding up the outside until they reached the roof. A notice stated that if the alarm sounded one blast I should run as far away from the refinery as possible and then shelter inside a building. Two blasts at a particular time meant either the alarm was being tested or it was the fire alarm.

The map indicated a building ahead called East Newhall and that I should turn left on a public footpath before I reached it. It meant a detour to Ramsey. This had a windmill I could see but it was some way inland. I reached East Newhall which looked like an abandoned farm with derelict out buildings. A sign to the side of the track said “Private Road” but there was no gate and no dogs. I decided to chance it to save time and carried straight on. There was not a soul to be seen and I could see no evidence of recent occupation. A van had vegetation growing up around it. Perhaps it had been owned by a criminal who was now dead, abroad or behind bars. As I left East Newhall behind I could see there was a well maintained house. I hoped that I would not meet a vehicle on the long winding drive to the B1352. I reached the road without incident and soon passed Home Farm. This was a fine old building with a dovecote on the roof divided into three sections each looking like a dolls house with two windows and a door. Several doves were perched outside. I was now on a road section of the Essex Way. This turned right away from the road towards Copperas Bay. I entered an RSPB area and came to a hide at the bottom of the wood looking out over the bay. The path hugged the shore line and passed through an area called Strandlands on the map. The tide was out and the mud flats seemed to extend almost all the way to the Shotley Peninsula. It was approaching 4 pm and the light had begun to fail. An enormous rent in the clouds leaked a glowing yellow light which reflected from patches of water scattered on part of the flats.

I had heard a train go by so I arrived at Wrabness Station expecting a wait but the Walton-on-Naze train came through at 4.26 and that took me to Manningtree where I took cocoa and a disappointing piece of fruit cake. The train to Ipswich and then a bus carried me back to Woodbridge.

I was on route for 2 and a half hours today.

A steady drizzle just failed to deter me from undertaking another section today. I took the bus to Ipswich Station and then bought a day return Wrabness. At Wrabness I could see no way out of the station. I walked in the wrong direction down the platform until the guard on the train waved at me. I saw that I had to turn round and cross on some wooden boards placed on either side of and between the rails. By 1pm I was back on route.

Down on the Stour's edge I saw that the mud flats of last week had been covered by the tide. The path along the shore was muddy. A narrow section with high vegetation on both sides of the way caused my trousers to become soaked. It was cold and I soon regretted the lack of gloves. In fact my hands became quite painful so I decided to walk with my hands in my pockets. A row of very basic huts lined a sandy beach. There was not a soul to be seen. Clearly these were fair weather huts. I deduced they had no toilets as I came upon a toilet block. A notice on the door proclaimed the water had been switched off. This increased the sense of desolation. I could not see life returning here until the spring.

I was now passing by Jacques Bay. Inland I could see the imposing Jacques Hall across the railway line. Soon afterwards I passed underneath the railway and came to Bradfield. There was a fine house next to the Church. A War Memorial in the churchyard indicated an enormous loss of life for such a small place in the World Wars. Beyond the village I soon left the road on a clear path.

I had been on the Essex Way ever since I reached the shore line. Not one person did I see, but the feet of those who had gone before had beaten a narrow strip of bare earth for me to follow. Someone had suggested the previous evening that I must have met many interesting people on my journey round Britain. In reply I had mentioned my conversation on the way to Harwich from Thorpe-le-Soken but the truth is that I do not meet many people. However, if I should need companions, they can be the shadowy figures without whom there would be no path. There is a tenuous link between myself and those who have preceded me. In the same way I preserve the path for those who will come after me. Without ever meeting, we all combine in the common purpose of keeping open long distance walking routes across the British countryside. Naturally we only rarely think of it in these terms.

As I approached Mistley I passed, according to the map, a secret bunker. There was no sign of it but the secret must now be shared with everyone who studies the OS Map of this area. The air became sweet and I read on an industrial chimney “Esme Malt Extract Works”. This was set amongst a number of large silver-coloured tanks with shallow conical roofs. Mistley had a number of old buildings. It became affluent from the wool trade in the 16th and 17th century. Nowadays the port is modest but some imports enter the country here. The Mistley Towers had been built in the 18th century and there used to be a church between them. This had been demolished in 1870 and Mistley Church was moved elsewhere. The Rigby family had been significant figures in Mistley history. They had tried to establish it as a spa town without success. There was a grassy area along the shore between Mistley and Manningtree where numerous birds had come to the water's edge including a black swan.

I marched on through worsening rain to reach Manningtree Station. I was soaked so the tea and scone at the station cafe were very welcome.

I was out three hours today.

I took the bus to Ipswich Station where I caught the train to Manningtree. I set out at 1012 in mild weather. It was cloudy but no rain was forecast.

Out of the station I turned onto the A137. I passed a couple of sluices and a road sign pronounced my arrival in Suffolk. This is my fifth county after East Sussex, Kent, Greater London and Essex. I turned off the main road at Cattawade. I was now on the Suffolk Coast and Heaths Path which will take me to Southwold. I walked alongside an industrial estate. At the end of this I came to Dataimage, part of ICI. Beyond the ICI buildings was a large pond used for fishing. The charge was £5 a rod for men and £2 for a boy. I passed over the busy railway line leading to Ipswich and looked down on the Stour. There was a sweet smell which seemed familiar. I remembered it from last week. It was the malt extract works. The sound of a distant train on the Mayflower line reached me across the water. The insistent beep of reversing lorries also came to me from somewhere. I descended to the Stour's edge and the path then kept to it for a while. The path followed the top of an embankment around Seafield Bay and brought me to Stutton Mill. This was a large property and well maintained. It had a tennis court and a pond with exotic birds. A gardener returned my wave.

The path took me now through woods growing down to a shingly shore. From Stutton Ness (Dovehouse Point) I could see the petrol storage tanks at Parkeston and the cranes at Felixstowe docks. The path now turned inland towards Stutton. I could see the impressive Crowe Hall and passed by the smaller Crepping Hall. There was a large group of walkers ahead of me. I turned off the path to get to the B1080 to see whether there were any buses stopping here. I had set out without researching transport on the Shotley Peninsula. I had thought there would be a bus or maybe I might get the ferry across to Harwich to catch the train. At the Kings Head there was a bus stop on the Ipswich – Manningtree route. Either direction gave me an escape. In the meantime I thought it would be pleasant to have lunch in the pub. Unfortunately the large contingent of walkers had arrived just before me and barricaded me from the bar. They were Suffolk Ramblers Association and they were doing a circular walk starting and finishing at Brantham. They were mostly elderly and well behaved – their boots had all been removed and left neatly outside the pub. Having only had a banana and three pieces of toast for breakfast I feasted on a chicken curry followed by cherry pie and cream washed down by a pint of Adnams. The kitchen was hard pressed by the sudden influx of trade so I missed the Manningtree bus but I caught the one to Ipswich.

I was walking 2 hours 10 minutes today. I had meant to get to Shotley but to do that and find transport before dark I had to keep going. The Kings Head was just too tempting. I'm not eating as much back home as Polly is on her botanical drawing course and I haven't bothered to do any food shopping.

Polly gave me a lift into Ipswich where, at 1235, I caught the 96 bus at the bus station for Kings Head Stutton. The service is only every two hours. Opposite the pub there was a path which led me back to the Suffolk Coast and Heaths. A side road took me past Stutton House and the church. A woman walking her dog asked me whether I was walking miles. When I said “Shotley” she told, in a rather grand voice, that it was a lovely walk. She carried on talking after I had moved on but I suppose she was addressing her dog.

The road became a track which soon joined an embankment at the edge of the River Stour. To my left there was the Royal Hospital School of Holbrook with its tall central spire and long red brick frontage stretching out from the spire on either side. A bell sounded the hour. A great shout rang across the playing fields but there was no sport in progress. There was some excitement within the building. Polly told me that it was a naval school and that John, her husband, had been trained there. I was walking round Holbrook Bay. At an inlet there were several boats moored upon one of which a man was working.

At Harkstead the path left the shore and stayed inland. Two middle aged couples walked by. Two Dobermans ran in a field, their heads raised above the tall grass. They put up a couple of pheasant and one pursued them as they flew away. One of the women scorned the dog's effort and said that it had never caught anything except a rabbit with Myxomatosis. The path launched itself out into an enormous field where a winter crop was just two inches out of the ground. The direction indicated by the waymark was clear but the path on the ground had been obliterated by ploughing. A few boot marks helped and soon I could see the marker on the far side of the field. This was placed on the side of a road which soon took me to three lonely houses on a dead end road leading towards the shore. Here the Suffolk Coast and Heaths was diverted towards Beaumont Hall as there had been a landslip on the usual route which followed the shore line. I passed beside a large round artificial pond and reached the road again at Shop Corner. I was soon in Erwarton where there was a pub, the Queen's Head, and a church. Within the churchyard a war memorial commemorated six men of the parish who had died in the Great War. The path ran parallel to the road at Shotley and rejoined the road right at the edge of Shotley Gate. A stout woman cycled by and I heard a boy's voice crying out “Come back, come back.” She cycled on. The boy, just out of school and carrying a satchel, was comforted by a school mate. Was the woman his mother? Why was she riding away? Why was the boy anxious? I shall never know.

The road soon descended steeply towards the water. I passed a general store and Post Office and reached the Bristol Arms where there was a bus stop. I had 45 minutes to spare before the bus came so I walked along a coastal road to Shotley Marina. There was a museum there and offices of ship brokers and sail makers. It was probably very busy in the summer. The foot passenger ferry to Harwich had closed on 12 September for the winter. I retraced my steps. The Bristol Arms was still shut. I sat on the end of a wall and looked up river towards the sunset. The water turned a darker shade of orange. Lights from Harwich Port were reflected in the water as bright bands looking like columns supporting the opposite shore. There was a path running alongside the beach heading inland. It was now practically dark. A slight noise had me peering in the direction of this path. A pair of white trousers gradually became visible. They belonged to the owner of a dog enjoying its evening walk. Two girls emerged from the darkness on the beach and walked past me. When the bus came at 1646 there was still a glimmer of light from the east just colouring the river.

The bus took me to Ipswich Cattle Market and another bus took me home. I was walking for 2hrs 45 mins today.

This was a beautiful day. I forgot my gloves but it didn't really matter. I caught the bus to Ipswich Cattle Market Bus Station and had a sandwich and hot chocolate in Neros Coffee Bar whilst I waited for the onwards bus to Shotley Gate. I took the 97 at 1235 and started walking at 1315.

I soon passed the marina. This was a substantial enclosed area at Shotley Point. I was now on an embankment with a grassy path on top walking between the River Orwell and Shotley Marshes. These were uncultivated and I could see no animals grazing. Beyond the marshes, the land rose to the B1456 where stood the houses I had seen from the bus. On the far side of the Orwell there was a substantial marina. It is remarkable how many boats are moored round here. A large vessel laden with containers came downstream from Ipswich. When I first noticed it, I was looking at it overland as it was beyond the bend in the river at Collimer Point. The hull was turquoise and set low in the water under the weight of its cargo. In fact the height of the containers measured from the ship's rail was about three times that of the hull above the water line. What if it encountered stormy weather? I couldn't see the containers remaining stable if the deck didn't stay almost level. Nevertheless the ship sailed serenely on by. The superstructure at the back was white and the bridge on top had just enough clearance over the containers for the helmsman to see the way ahead.

It became clear that I was not going to reach Ipswich by dusk. I could escape by catching a bus at Chelmondiston but I might have to wait for an hour. I decided to continue through the National Trust woodland above Pin Mill. As I looked down through the trees towards the river I could pick out large barges with sheds on top. Pin Mill itself was a hive of activity with boat repairers and the Butt and Oyster pub right on the water's edge with a warning that at high tide the water covered the foreshore. At Woolverstone I came upon the Royal Harwich Yacht Club. A team of tree surgeons were felling an ancient ivy covered tree. The approach road to the Club had boats on either side. Some were on trailers but most rested on metal frames with four or more legs sticking upwards and holding the hull in place. Maybe the boats had been hauled in to their winter quarters but I did wonder how often they would enjoy an outing in summer. Was it the fate of much of this fleet to be bought on a wave of enthusiasm and then forgotten?

The Suffolk Coast and Heaths now turned inland for a while. I passed by the entrance of our friends the Cooks' old home, Woolverstone House, designed by Lutyens, and crossed the B1456 to reach Freston Church. I turned into woods. It was nearly 4.30 and getting dark. The path was covered by leaves as was the rest of the woodland floor. I lost the correct line and floundered directionless so retraced my steps. The path had shaped the adjacent trees and bushes to forge this route through and I followed it intuitively eyes fixed ahead to sense the vacancy carved by usage and not yet lost by neglect. At last I reached the B1456 again and it was dark. The road was busy and I had to walk beside it on a rough embankment so my progress was slow and uncomfortable.

Now I was close up to the Orwell Bridge. I had first seen it after Collimer Point but only just as visibility was poor. From time to time I had further sightings of it as I progressed upstream. I had often been over it in the car but it has solid sides so there is no view and it seems detached from the surrounding scene. As I came up to it Suffolk Coast and Heaths took me away from the road and onto a riverside walk. It is so high that one hardly hears the traffic but, from a distance, one can see the high-sided lorries going over. It's particularly busy as the A14 takes the commercial vehicles from Felixstowe apart from the few that follow the A12 heading towards Lowestoft. Shortly before rejoining the road I walked alongside yet another marina. Am I the only person who doesn't own a boat? It's something I've never wanted.

I was soon on the A137 for the final walk into Ipswich. The road follows the Orwell but I hardly saw it as there were buildings in the way. Some of these related to the port owned by Associated British Ports, our biggest port company following a privatisation. There were numerous residential building sites. The road was largely lined with modest terraced houses. Some of these sported lavish Christmas lights with moving effects. A bell image, that lit up first on one side and then on the other to give the impression that it was ringing, was popular. I reached Cattle Market Bus Station in the town centre at 5.15 so I had been out for 4 hours. I then caught the bus home.