Day 67 - Tarleton to Freckleton

Dear Blog - A curious day following a perfectly ordinary start. Nobody sleeps through an alarm. All rail cards and tickets are remembered. John has problems sourcing his usual bacon sandwich (his customary Cheltenham breakfast stop is now a pizzeria, and no time at New Street due to delayed arrival), but the train to Preston provides a BLT and arrives on time, and a station Colin gets us to Tarleton before 10:30. No problems finding our way back to, and crossing, the Douglas and, as we walk back along the bank opposite the one which was signposted as eroded on day 66, we discover that the structure over the river close to the Light Railway is, in fact, a raised pipe and not a bridge. So it wouldn't have been possible to cross at an earlier point than we finally did this morning. So far, so unremarkable. However, we then witness a "mini-bore" rolling back up the Douglas towards Tarleton and, shortly after Ben has informed us that JG's son, Charlie, has been asked to leave Manchester University, he receives a text (an event worthy of mention in itself) from JG asking where we are walking today. The natural speculation ensues, and exchanges of texts with JG over the following few hours establish that he is indeed in Manchester to collect Charlie and his belongings, that Charlie is staying in Manchester for one final night, and that JG would prefer to spend his Monday evening with us. However, there are no vacancies at the Queen's in Lytham (where we're staying) or at a neighbouring hotel - apparently due to Mondays/Tuesdays being "conference days" - so JG decides to book a deluxe room at the Grand in St Anne's, and we arrange, somewhat hopefully, to meet him for a drink at our planned pre-Lytham stopping point, The Ship in Freckleton. Throughout these text exchanges, there is also a series of phone calls between John and son Simon. Following the recent decision in the case of Harkness v Singapore Airlines (Claimant in person partly successful with no order for costs), the prospect of fresh litigation is being discussed, namely Harkness Junior v Worcester College in re Randolph Hotel Fire. However, by early afternoon, it sounds as though matters are unlikely to proceed beyond negotiations with the College Bursar (watch this space). And in the midst of all this excitement, we still manage to walk 19 warm and sunny miles. Along the Douglas we complete 1,000 miles since starting the South West Coast Path just over 4 years ago, and then reach the Ribble and a green and pleasant route along its south bank towards Preston. Pausing by Penwortham Golf Course, we are mildly chastised by a member of a fourball for not applauding his tee shot (we hadn't seen where it ended up), so we pay more attention to one of his partners who promptly pings his shot towards the river and out of bounds. We continue on our way, realising at this point, 5 miles after the 1,000 barrier, that we've just left behind M-A-D Johnny to celebrate achieving his increasingly pathetic 15 miles a day average. After crossing the river in Preston, we're only able to walk along the north bank for three or four more miles. Shortly after a marina, and by the Ribble Steam Railway, the cycle track which we're following goes away from the river and, rather disappointingly, we spend our final couple of hours walking alongside the main Preston to Blackpool road, and the A584 towards Lytham. As anticipated, the walk ends short of Lytham itself, at Freckleton by the official start of the Lancashire Coastal Way, whence we repair to The Ship. Extraordinarily, JG arrives just five minutes later. Even more extraordinarily given the time of day (around 5:15), it seems that Linda is still expecting him and Charlie to be going back to London this evening, because she has just sent a message asking JG to buy some mushrooms on the way home for a casserole dinner! Following a 15 minute period of reflection, he wanders outside to bring Linda somewhat belatedly up to date with the day's developments, and returns looking none the worse for the experience. After a couple of ciders, John, Ben and Gary go to the Queen's, courtesy of Messrs Whitesides Taxis, leaving JG (whose car is encumbered with filial possessions) to make his own way to the Grand. We all rendezvous later at the Queen's for supper which comprises fish and chips (as recommended by our cab driver), three bottles of wine and, for the first time during the last few trips, a couple of stickies. All of this means that, in another noteworthy departure from recent practice - and having wished JG good fortune for the morrow - the Queen's residents don't retire to their rooms until after 9:30.