Hitching a ride, or not.

Thurs 30th
I awoke to find it really cold and murky [it did brighten up, later]. However I have become adept at getting everything sorted out, before I open the tent. Then the only thing that I've got to do, is pack it. Now that may not sound particularly impressive, but you have to remember this is a small one-man-tent. You couldn't swing a slug in it. I put it down to my childhood experience, when the frost was on the inside of the window, and I completely dressed underneath the covers before emerging.

As I was on my way - for the first time - a chap offered me a lift. I declined, highlighting my mission.
"Nobody would know," he said. But I would :)
I arrived in Broughton, to find a very nice cafe called the Laurel Bank. As I entered, I noted the old dears checking their handbags, underneath the table. I don't think I'd shaved for two days, after tenting. If they'd met me after my four-day tent stint, I'm sure that they would have been on their mobiles requesting police attendance.  
I got chatting with some walkers - not real walkers, just day-trippers. Anyway one of the women asked me, "If someone offered you a lift, would you accept?" - semi-spooky!
I replied, "My conscience would constrain me, dutifully, to fulfil my designated itinerant tariff."
She said, "What!?"  
I replied, "No."

The vehicle which has come closest to clipping me, so far, was not a mobile hairdresser, but an ambulance! I've heard of "ambulance chasers" but that was ridiculous.