Homage. Part 1. The odyssey

So there I was, warm and snug in beautiful Knutsford, guest of especially gracious hosts Sue and Robin Longdon.
We’d determined the malaise of the world in general, Britain and the Scottish Nationalists in particular, then decided the means to fix the world (only a beer and one nice bottle of red down) and it was about time for me to head from the warm, to the cool/cold place and proceed to the next stage of my “homage to the Wee Warrior”.

Off to Cornwall, home of the designer and builder of the Red Rocket, Peter Emery and his lovely wife Jeanne.
Knutsford to Tywardreath (pronounced “Tidrith”) with;
a stop at the Industrial Park engravers to collect the surprise,
another in Wolverhampton to collect the folding bike,
a sidestep to High Bullen in Devon to Alco Engineering for the ramp extensions (so I don’t need to be a missile launcher in a manned missile)
then on to St Austell (pronounced in Cornish as Sint Ostell).

My friend Tom Tom reckons about 6hrs 15 mins for the journey, for a 4pm arrival, but I don’t think he has reckoned on the yellow van, 115 hp and my attempts to ensure boxes of tools and kitchen implements of varying levels of destructive purpose do not attack the defenseless Wee Warrior. I reckon more like 6pm all going well.
Hit the button Mr Sulu. Warp factor anything you can give me Scottie!

• Engravers: Good bloke. Lovely job. Decent price. Nice surprise.
• Wolverhampton. Hmmm,.. joker has forgotten the ‘delivery charge’ refund. “Credit your paypal tomorrow”? Hahaha falling about larfing, … yeah right!. Cash baby. Cool, 15 quid thanks and we’re gone.
• High Bullen, Devon. Simon at Alco Engineering is a good bloke. A VERY good bloke, and stumped up a few bolts, nuts and washers for my ramp extensions too, I thoroughly recommend these guys for anyone needing ramps or in van stuff like I’ve done. Good prices, good product, on time and right price.

The Somerset, Devon and Cornish countryside are just beautiful. It is truly lovely meandering down these gentle winding roads heading back to the motorway, scaring the bejeesus out of little Hyundai ‘snot’s as they arrive on the worng side of the road in corners.

Of course, the tourist on the other side of the valley taking his photo will now be saying;
Vat iz zat ‘orrible yellow zing ruining my pixture? #@))*!!

On down the road I go. There must be a song title in there.
Wish I had the iPod hooked up for a bit of Littlefeat road music and blues.

Suddenly, halfway between nowhere and not somewhere very much, I pass a posse of steers all gathered up
around this tree.  .
By the time I went up the road, turned ‘Big Yella” around and came back with the phone camera ready, they’d twigged something was up and this fellah, lets call him Lancelot, had sounded off a warning to the “Steers of the Round Table” to break up the committee. Not sure, but I reckon a breakout plan was on the cards. Or, maybe more likely, there is a pretty little heifer in the middle there.
I suppose, there IS a pole of sorts. Could be a hide dancer? They do it in the raw. Bit of mid afternoon entertainment for the lads?
(Bugger me if I’m lying tax dodgers, but when I came back past here the next day, they were in the exact same spot but a big black fellah was on guard. Gave me the evil eye so I moved right along).

Cut a long story short, got to my B&B at Tywardreath Highway at 17:30.
Tomorrow, the prodigal daughter/son returns home to a tearful father, who will slay the fatted calf, we’ll have a feast, do lots of drinking pints of real ale and dancing on the mount (or so the old story goes).

Till then dear reader……
Ollie out.

BTW, I am mostly out here on my tod, and the ‘talking to myself’ is starting to get on the tits of my alter ego who is the strong silent type (I guess you haven’t met him). So any of you buggers who can write are most welcome to add a wee missive of humour, comment, piss take or maybe just an acknowledgement I am not writing in an empty room.