Peer Pressure!

Well I've been ordered by two friends to get my ass in gear, and write a new post. So, here it is.

I've been so busy since I've been back in London. I've started working part-time at the bar I originally volunteered in. It's not as awesome now. Mainly my own personal issues with expectations and taking orders. There are some stories to tell, but for now, I'll stick to the journey.

I went back to the Humber Bridge to take another look at the heritage park. Once again, I spoke to the woman in the information unit. I stayed for two hours, talking about my adventures and the bridge. She let me charge my phone and even made me a cup of tea. Her husband appeared - "Look Mike, this is the woman I told you about - the one driving around alone!" Well blow me down, I was like a celebrity. He was more fascinated than she was. Their son however, couldn't give a shit, he was 3, and incredibly busy destroying flyers.

After I left her office, I went back into the park. I'm so glad I did, now I had the time to really look around. It's almost magical, there is a lively quietness, a connectedness to nature and a feeling of mutual respect. One of the rare places I'd visit again.

Had to wash Oz as he looked like shit again. Hanging your washing inside is one thing, looking like a tramp-mobile is another. It was £2.60. What a bargain.

The first view of Hull is council tower blocks. Oh what joy. A nice reminder, that cities are still crap, even in the country. My illusion is swiftly shattering. You can tell all you need to know of an area, from the Asda customers. What we learnt from that experience, is to stay in your car, and keep driving. The area was run down and dry. Brown concrete buildings everywhere, unkempt verges and fencing. The entire place was reminiscent of an industrial estate. The defining feature is that it smells so bad, it makes Dagenham smell like a Glade plug-in.

As I was driving I saw a church steeple. It instantly struck me that I hadn't seen one in miles. Perhaps not since leaving London. The South and North have mainly square towers, whilst East Anglia has its rarer, circular counterpart. What was flat, was once again pointy. It looked odd and out of place, but after driving past 3 more, it seemed normal again.

I went to the Spurn Heritage Coast. It's a random sticking out thing near Hull - or Ull as it's known by the locals. Apparently we East Londers say it perfectly. They should change the name to Spurn Death Trap. First you pay £3 to park, but you must drive down a 'road' first. Holy shower gel, that was insane. Once you get going, the grass is long. Savannah long. Lions could hide in that shit, long. I walked along the path. Let me emphasise that path, is loosely defined as an area where someone has once walked, and the 4ft grass is merely 2ft. And then to discuss the nature. There were warning signs to not touch the blah-blah-blah caterpillar as it's poisonous. You don't need to tell London people not to touch a caterpillar - why the hell would anyone do that anyway? There were bees, flies, butterflies and all manner of flying beast present. And species of flowers, so tall they should be classed a trees.

I walked past railway lines that went off the cliff edge, abandoned military huts and a old lighthouse. The whole area stays the same shape, but moves left a few meters every year. Across the 'path' and eventually onto the beach. The amount of litter was shocking. It looked like a market at the end of the day. I walked a good mile around it and was tired. I stopped and asked two humans how to get to the carpark. Oh, one smiled, just walk up there and follow the path. So I did. Fool. What was I thinking? I'd already experienced 'the path'. At least I had the option to choose where I wanted to go. This, was a one direction path. And no, not the singing idiots. After nearly killing myself, I decide to scrap that idea and keep walking along the beach. After a total of 3 hours walking, I was back in the car, driving down the 'road'.

I went back to the man in the parking office. I asked him for my 'London Achievement Award'. He didn't know what I was talking about. Well, I explained, after surviving THAT, Londoners should get a prize. He laughed, but not before taking a moment to figure out if I was insane.