Day 3 - The lawnmower man - Free Country: A Penniless Adventure the Length of Britain - page 45

'I think I've seen enough already!'
We stopped talking for a few minutes and I thought he had calmed down, until I heard a
shout of 'FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT' behind me. I turned to see Ben throwing Pinky into
the hedge. She fell back out again and landed at his feet, where he gave her a kick.
This seemed to clear his system, as he seemed slightly happier afterwards. The hills
smoothed somewhat, and we felt like we were making progress again.
Half an hour later, we were lost. We had been covering the distance but we had no idea
if we were going in the right direction. It was a while since we had seen any of the villages
that Donna had mentioned, so we stopped at a farm to ask if they had a map.
'Sorry, I was KILLIN' chickens,' shouted the lady, after we had been wandering aim-
lessly around her farmyard for some time. She was in her early thirties, with bleached
blonde hair. Her hands were covered in blood that she was wiping on her trousers. 'What
can I get you? Is it chickens you're after?' she said, pointing to a sign on the gate. Fresh
Meat - For Sale.
'Actually, we're a bit lost. Do you possibly have a map we could have a quick look at,
please?'
'I think someone left one 'ere once. I don't have no need for a map,' she said and
climbed into a caravan, which seemed to be her house.
'There you are,' she said, handing us a road atlas dated 1988. 'I can't read so good, so
you'll have to work it out for yourselves.'
'Whereabouts on the map we are now?' I asked.
'I think somewhere around here,' she said, pointing to a bit of the map miles from any-
where.
'Nanstallon! That's one of the places that Donna mentioned,' I said.
'Yeah. Looks like we're going the right way then, Ben.'
'Soifwekeepgoinginthisdirectionforabouteightmiles,weshouldgettoNanstallon.
It looks quite big on the map, so we should find somewhere to stay there.'
Ben sighed.
Soon afterwards, we were at a crossroads and lost again.
We turned right and the grass in the middle of the road began to get to knee height, and
it was obvious that no amount of traffic had been down there in some time. We tried one
of the other turns instead. It led into a field. So, by a process of elimination, we figured the
third and final option had to be the right way.
The chain jammed on The Falcon, yet again. This time it was on a long uphill. Again,
we were unable to free the chain by hand, so I pushed the bike to the top of the hill, and
then freewheeled down the other side.