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'Thanks, but we were hoping to get some bikes lawfully and legitimately, but we appre-
ciate the offer,' said Ben.
Steve suggested we try another pub in St Just - the Miners Arms. It was also an excuse
for another beer.
The Miners Arms was fairly grim. The walls were painted black and there was almost
nolight,otherthanthedaylightthatpokeditswaythroughtheclosedshutters.Wefumbled
ourwaytothe bar,bumping fromempty table toempty table andtreading onthe occasion-
al sleeping dog. It was Ben's round.
'Hello,' he said, looking at all four of the guys sitting at the bar, assuming that one of
them worked there.
'What can I get you?' asked the youngest and least likely looking barman of the lot of
them.
'We're cycling 1000 miles to John O'Groats, but we don't have any bikes,' said Ben.
Theplaceeruptedwithlaughter.Sniggerscouldbeheardthroughthedarknessfromatable
inthefarcorner.'Wewerewondering…'continuedBenunfazed,'ifyouknewanyonethat
had a couple of bikes that they were trying to get rid of.'
The laughter went up a notch. It continued for a minute or so.
'I'll take that as a no,' said Ben. 'Any chance of a free beer then?'
'Sure,' said the barman. 'You guys sound like you'll need it.'
We sat down in the darkness and drank our second beer of the day. We had only walked
four miles, and at that rate, it was going to take over five months to get to John O'Groats.
We had allowed ourselves three weeks.
By this point, it felt like my welly had rubbed through to the bone. I removed it in the
hope of showing Ben some horrific battle wound, but was disappointed to discover a small
red splodge on my heel. Still, we decided that suitable shoes were more necessary than
bikes. The trip would have been over before it had properly begun if we had continued in
the wellies.
I decided to speak to the guys at the bar again. Despite laughing at us before, they were
very friendly and approachable.
'Do you know anywhere we could get a pair of old shoes?' I asked, 'We've got one pair
oftrainers and a pair ofwellies that are much too small.' The laughter reached new heights
and I returned to our table in the corner.
We were about to leave when one of the guys who had been at the bar approached us.
He was in his late twenties, with a missing front tooth and slicked hair. He had not said a
word before and had been the only person not to laugh.
'I think what you are doing is inspirational,' he said quietly, so that his friends at the
bar didn't hear. 'I want you to have this.' He then glanced around to check that his friends
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