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Walking Land's End to John o'Groats with Mark Moxon

Street to Midsomer Norton

Glastonbury Tor from Long Drove
Glastonbury Tor from Long Drove

Perhaps it was down to the 'morning after the party' feeling that hovered over me following the bank holiday weekend, but this day never really got going. The walk was inoffensive but pretty uninspiring; my destination, Midsomer Norton, was disappointingly awful; and by far the most exciting thing to happen to me all day was being shat on from a great height by a bird (interestingly, the second bird to shit on me in as many days).

When I'm Sixty-nine

My stay at the Youth Hostel in Street was considerably enlivened by the arrival of a man called Barry, who also happens to be doing the End-to-End walk. He'd just had an awful day's walk from Taunton, and it only took a few seconds to work out that he'd been fine until King's Sedgemoor Drain, when the long grass and the endless boredom of Butleigh Drove had ground down his nerves in exactly the way they had mine.

Magical Mystery Tor

Glastonbury Tor from the north
Glastonbury Tor from the north

Street is apparently famous for being the place where Clarks have been churning out shoes since 1825, and on my way along the high street I walked right past the Clarks factory and visitor centre. I've never really understood how Clarks have managed to keep going in the face of the far more sassy competition – perhaps they have the school shoe market sewn up, or something – but Street and Clarks certainly suit each other. For me, Clarks shoes conjure up images of Enid Blyton, terrible knitwear, and those greeting cards that take photographs from yesteryear and add captions such as 'Clive's happiest memories were of his days with Raphael and those little red pills' and 'Marjorie always got a cheeky little thrill from wearing no knickers to her bridge nights.' Street is in a similar time warp; it's a pleasant little place but it feels strangely isolated, not unlike Clarks.

Glastonbury Tor from the south
Glastonbury Tor from the south

The Long and Winding Drove

Long Drove
Long Drove

After the thrill of finding the hippy generation alive and well in Glastonbury, the day's walk deteriorated into a pretty mundane plod through the Somerset countryside. There was nothing wrong with the walk itself, or indeed the countryside, but I found it more an exercise in steady plodding than a walk to remember. Perhaps it was just me bouncing back down to earth after the thrill of having Peta visit me over the weekend, or perhaps it was just a boring walk; I didn't really care, just as long as I got to Midsomer Norton in reasonable time.

The view from Maesbury Castle
The view from Maesbury Castle
Gurney Slade quarry
Gurney Slade quarry

Midsomer Madness

Old trees north of Maesbury Castle
Old trees north of Maesbury Castle

It's a lovely name, Midsomer Norton. It conjures up images of pleasant rural cottages, a village green, babbling brooks and ducks in the town centre, and as I walked into town, I thought I'd struck gold. A swan bathed itself in a lovely weir right next to a pretty little tea room, and just beyond I found the B&B I'd booked from Street, the Greyhound Hotel.

A church in Dinder
A church in Dinder
A sign saying 'Slow for Ducks'
If there's one place you'd want to be a duck, it'd be Chilcompton

1 In fact, there are at least two decent pubs in Midsomer Norton, but you have to know where to look. The Wunder Bar has a dedicated following, and the White Hart has a CAMRA silver-star rating, but you'd never guess it from the pubs on the high street...