Day 89 – Kershopefoot to Kielder

A good breakfast, and we are provided with return transport to the bridge which we reach just after 8:30. For about an hour and a half we’re walking through the Newcastleton and Kershope Forests, and zigzagging a couple of times between England and Scotland. But we stay in England for the final part of that section, and for the following 3 hours or so through the Kielder Forest, with the only border crossed being the one between Cumbria and Northumberland. Nothing much more to be said. It’s simply a very enjoyable walk on a warm, dry day through trees and gentle rolling hills along well defined tracks. There are certainly worse ways of spending a morning. The tracks eventually bring us to an attractive curved bridge over an inlet from Kielder Water, and the final couple of miles are along the Lakeside Way which, in this area of Kielder at least, is singularly ill-named. Due to distance and/or trees between us and the shoreline, we only rarely catch sight of the lake itself. At a T-junction, we’re not completely sure which is the better way to turn in order to reach our ultimate destination, the Anglers Arms. However, a gentleman with a dog directs us to the left – and adds that he’ll see us at the Anglers a little bit later. It only takes another 20 minutes to get to the pub which allows more than sufficient time for a drink, a bite to eat, and a nod to greet our dog accompanied T-junction guide when he arrives. Carlisle Colin also arrives, slightly ahead of schedule, and so, when we’re eventually dropped off at the station, we’re able as on the last trip to make a relaxed diversion to the Griffin before catching our trains. We’re not sure about our travel arrangements for the next trip, but could this be our final journey via the west coast mainline…?   

Day 88 – Longtown to Kershopefoot

So ShedWeb proved to be a reliable indicator of the national mood. And since our last trip, two other slightly less momentous – but more immediately relevant – decisions have been taken. First, to abandon carve-up Colin in favour of the firm that got us from Gretna to Rockcliffe, and secondly to start our walk today at the junction of the A7 to the north of Longtown. Our first post-Brexit trains are on time; Carlisle Colin (or Connie?) is at the station to meet us; her roundabout lane arbitrage is exemplary; and we get to our start point without incident around noon. We set off north east towards Kirkandrews where, from St Andrew’s Church, we cross the Esk by a suspension footbridge which was built in the 18^th century (and has recently been overhauled thank goodness) to connect the church with Netherby Hall on the other bank. After passing through the Netherby Estate, the next couple of hours are pretty unremarkable along narrow lanes. Today’s walk will end at Kershopefoot, near the western edge of the Kielder Forest, but we’re due to be staying about three miles away, across the border, at the Grapes in Newcastleton. The owner/landlord has said that he’ll pick us up if we let him have our ETA at Kershopefoot and it becomes clear that we’ll have to phone him sooner rather than later whilst we still have a mobile signal but with our estimate being potentially less reliable. There’s now some drizzle in the air and, having resisted the temptation to call in at a pub (i.e. it’s closed) we phone the Grapes just after 3pm to say that we should be at Kershopefoot around 4:30. At 4 o’clock, we’re walking along the edge of the Kershope Forest, the rain is getting heavier, and we still have about a mile and a half to go. John speeds up and disappears into the gathering gloom, Gary makes a token gesture at acceleration, and Ben keeps going. And whilst John emerges at the Kershopefoot bridge just before 4:30, it’s Ben who times his arrival only a couple of minutes before our lift comes into view and just after the rain starts to hammer down. Our good fortune with the weather surely can’t last….? It takes around 10 minutes to get to the Grapes, which means early sharpeners on our arrival and, after the required drying out and freshening up, a similarly early supper. Even with a sticky afterwards, we’re back in our rooms by 9 o’clock, leaving in the bar several locals who were there when we arrived 4 hours earlier.

Day 87 – Rockcliffe to Longtown

The Hunters Lodge provides an early breakfast during which several attempts are made, by us and our host, to obtain transport back to Rockcliffe. The phone numbers provided yesterday evening provide no joy (in most cases no answer), but eventually a taxi firm in Carlisle is able to supply a Colin which returns us to the Crown and Thistle by 9 o’clock. The Esk follows a semi-circle to the Metal Bridge but the path along the river bank doesn’t extend all the way to the bridge. We follow it as far as we can – which includes making a telephone call to a local nature conservation authority for permission to use a track along a raised bank alongside some apparently “protected” land – but eventually we have to cut inland just before the Esk boathouse. We’re not 100% sure that we then follow the prescribed route through some small fields and paddocks, but eventually we emerge on a lane which leads to a footbridge over the main west coast railway line and from there to the Metal Bridge. The walk from Rockcliffe has taken almost a couple of hours, reconfirming the wisdom of our decision to bale out yesterday at the Crown and Thistle. Despite several attempts by John to find alternative routes, the next section of about 45 minutes over the bridge to the outskirts of Gretna has to be walked alongside the main A74. Fortunately, the traffic isn’t too heavy, due in no small part to the M6 running in parallel. The road sign which we saw yesterday is still warning of heavy rain, but the sun continues to shine as we turn north east and start our attempts to reach Berwick-on-Tweed by staying as close as possible to the Anglo-Scottish border. These attempts begin by walking through what appears to be somebody’s garden to reach the River Sark, which forms part of the western border. We cross the river a couple of times as we continue through a series of fields and then along country lanes which eventually bring us to a junction with the A7 to the north of Longtown. A decision has yet to be made on whether our next trip will start here or whether we will follow a more southerly route starting in Longtown itself. To keep options open, we walk the final couple of miles into Longtown which conclude with Gary coming a cropper on an overgrown alleyway running alongside some kind of lorry park/storage depot. Crossing the bridge over the Esk, our eyes light on a pub on Longtown’s high street (possibly the Globe) outside which our Colin from yesterday is conveniently parked. However, he has arrived 30 minutes early, so there’s more than enough time for a reviving cider in the outdoor shade, postcard purchases for Ben and John, and post-cropper clean up for Gary. The drive back to Carlisle includes a minor “carve up” incident at a roundabout which our driver unjustifiably blames on the other motorist in a manner which leads us to question whether he will receive the benefit of our custom next time. He does, however, get us to Carlisle in very good time for our trains, so we while away the wait by having a drink and a sandwich in the Griffin, a large pub just outside the station. On the train back to London, Ben and Gary notice across the carriage aisle Alan Johnson MP – a reminder (if one is needed) that, by the time we return to Carlisle, the EU referendum will have taken place. If polls which John has been monitoring on ShedWeb (Gloucester RFC) are to be believed, it’s going to be very close and, if anything, is tending towards Brexit. (We also notice from the comfort of our carriage that the heavy rain which was forecast earlier has at long last arrived!)

Day 86 – Burgh by Sands to Rockcliffe

From Burgh to the Kielder Forest via Sean’s bridge is about 40 miles. We’ll need a full day to walk through the forest, so John has been investigating the possibility of fording the Eden before reaching the bridge because the resultant saving of 8 miles would give us a chance of reaching Kielder at the end of our walk tomorrow. Given the narrow window of lunchtime low tide on the Eden, the chances of this proving to be practicable are slim, but they are reduced to non-existent by the late arrival at Birmingham of John’s morning train from Cheltenham. Although the train from Euston to Carlisle (with Ben and Gary on board) is still at the adjacent platform, its doors have been locked by the time John has disembarked and it disappears northwards leaving John – and about a dozen others who had unreasonably supposed that there was still a concept of “connecting trains” – fuming at New Street. Net result is that Ben and Gary arrive at Carlisle shortly after 11 o’clock and wait an hour – mainly spent breakfasting in the buffet – for John to arrive on the next train from Birmingham. However, a Colin from the station gets us to Burgh in about 20 minutes (with arrangements being made for him to pick us up tomorrow afternoon), and we’re eventually under way just before 12:30. It’s a short walk from Burgh to the Eden via the Edward I monument (marking the spot where the king died whilst encamped on his way to “hammer the Scots” in 1307) so it isn’t too long before we know for certain that the river level is now too high for fording. Indeed, it soon transpires that fording probably wouldn’t have been possible at any time because, after another mile or so and before the point where we would have tried to cross, the riverside path becomes impassable and we have to retrace our steps to join a lane going inland towards Beaumont. Rather irritatingly – particularly for John who has only just got over his annoyance with Virgin Trains and Network Rail – this means that our logging stop at the end of 2 hours takes place only a few hundred yards from where we were at the end of hour 1. The remainder of the route along the south side of the Eden is through a series of fields interspersed with country lanes and a short section of the Hadrian’s Wall Path and, by the time we’ve crossed Sean’s bridge and turned back to the north west, it’s approaching 4:00pm. The chances of us reaching the Metal Bridge (and its eponymous pub) on the Carlisle side of the River Esk at a reasonable hour are rapidly diminishing, so the decision is made to “ease off” and finish today at Rockcliffe which, conveniently, also has a pub, the non-eponymous Crown and Thistle. We’ll still have completed almost 15 miles, so similar mileages tomorrow and on the first day of our next trip will resolve the outstanding Kielder Forest issue – i.e. we’ll go through the forest on day 2 of the next trip. Sorted. In the meantime the walk to Rockcliffe is, for the most part, along the raised bank of the Eden and, with the exception of one or two overgrown fields and a diversion down to the side of the river to bypass some cattle (to include a proprietorial looking bull) the conditions underfoot are pretty easy. During the last hour or so, we hear regular rumbles of thunder, but it seems to be circling us and the heavy rain which we hear later has fallen in the area holds off until we’ve reached the Crown and Thistle. Clearly, the decision to stop here was the correct one. Earlier in the day John announced that, whilst he is no longer on the antibiotics which he was taking on the last trip, he has been investigating the benefits of a non-alcohol diet by remaining off the booze. Any such benefits must have proved to be marginal at best, or easy to ignore, because after one alcohol free lager (a contradiction in terms?) he rejoins the cider team for his second drink. A cab has been ordered to take us to our overnight stop, the Hunters Lodge in Gretna, and a sign by the road over the Esk warns of heavy rain tomorrow. Is our luck on the meteorological front about to run out? Our driver can’t take us back to Rockcliffe in the morning but he provides phone numbers of alternative Colins. Hunters Lodge is not exactly rammed but has comfortable rooms (albeit with slightly unsatisfactory shower pressure for some) and a satisfying supper during which it transpires that John’s earlier abandoning of his teetotal experiment was not a temporary measure.

Day 85 – Kirkbride to Burgh by Sands

Early breakfast and, courtesy of our host, we’re back outside the Bush Inn by 8:30. Today we’re aiming to get to Burgh (pronounced “Bruff”) by Sands, via Drumburgh, and after an initial short walk to Whitrigg, there are three possible ways of getting to Drumburgh. Either directly east from Whitrigg; or north across Bowness Common to Bowness-on-Solway and then south east to Drumburgh; or west to circle around the Cardurnock Peninsula and back through Bowness. Not surprisingly, in the interests of coastal purity, we take the third route. This will mean a walk of around 17 miles to Burgh which is the same sort of distance that we covered yesterday. How strange it is that, in these circumstances, conversation now occasionally turns to One-Day-Johnny and One-Trip-Jimmy, our two mythical standard bearers for mileage comparison purposes, who haven’t featured in our discussions since….well probably the last time we managed over 15 miles per day. The guide book informs us that there is much of natural and historic interest on Bowness Common, but these delights are largely denied to us by following the road for the dozen or so miles around the peninsula. The only thing which might qualify as natural interest is the sight of some cows emerging from a farmyard in Cardurnock and then herding themselves slowly up the road (very slowly in the case of one seemingly lame animal) in front of us, and some cyclists, to a field about a quarter of a mile away. And historic interest comes in the form of the Hadrian’s Wall path which we join where it begins (or ends) in Bowness. By now, the continuous hard underfoot surfaces are giving rise to varying degrees of foot discomfort and, shortly after Port Carlisle, John opts for half an hour of shoreline action rather than continuing along the road towards Drumburgh. Further relief is afforded by most of the remaining 4 miles or so to Burgh being along a flat grassy bank which runs beside the road. So we’re not too weary on arrival at the Greyhound pub just before 2 o’clock. Sean isn’t picking us up until 2:45, so plenty of time for drinks, sandwiches, inconclusive discussion with the barmaid about why the pub is called the Greyhound, and a bit of map study to determine our route to and beyond Carlisle. After going through Bowness, some consideration has been given to whether it might be better simply to follow the Hadrian’s Wall path rather than to stick as close as possible to the border. The path would certainly be easier to follow but, in some places, it’s a considerable distance from the border and we decide that we’ll head to Gretna and the border. It’s not immediately clear how easily we’ll be able to get onto a newly built road bridge over the River Eden but, when Sean picks us up, he has the answer which is very easily. Not only is he able to show us by taking a short diversion over (and back over) the bridge on our way to Carlisle station but it also transpires that, before becoming a cab driver, he was a construction worker and was involved with the building of the bridge. And whilst he’d be more than happy to drive us back to Burgh on our next trip, he says that it would be cheaper for us to get a cab at Carlisle station. Very helpful and a really nice bloke. He gets us to the station today in good time for our trains and there is no temptation on this occasion to while away our wait with expensive cans of lager, because the Costa Coffee outlet is closed. An excellent couple of days and, after the problems encountered on the last trip, a feeling that we’ve started to make real progress again.   

Day 84 – Silloth to Kirkbride

No transport problems this morning. Our train arrives a few minutes late at Carlisle, but Flimby Colin’s son is there to drive us to Siloth, to which many apologies because it isn’t the one horse/crossroads town previously described. Residentially at least it’s quite extensive, but the few commercial outlets are all based around said crossroads where we arrive just before noon. The first 90 minutes or so of today’s walk is north east to Grune Point and then back round the headland to Skinburness. This follows the coastline along a concrete seafront promenade and a couple of tracks, and we know that the vast majority of these two days will be spent on roads and pavements. However, on leaving Skinburness, we’re able to leave the road and cover the next 6 miles or so towards Abbey Town by crossing Calvo Marsh. We quickly realise why the guide book says that this should not be attempted in misty conditions or at high tide. Apart from the occasional farm building, the marsh is pretty featureless, the waymarking is sporadic at best, and there are frequent ditches which it’s possible to get over when the tide is out, but which presumably become creeks when it comes in. And when we’re not crossing ditches, or scanning the horizon for waymarking and stopping to check on the logger that we’re going the right way, the underfoot conditions are essentially an expanse of tussocks, so it’s not the most comfortable or enjoyable couple of hours. Still, it’s taken us off the road and closer to the sea, and the weather’s clear and warm; so mustn’t grumble. We’re back on the road for the stretch from Abbey Town to Newton Arlosh, but the next and final section is through a series of fields and past a couple of large World War II aircraft hangars to reach a lane into Kirkbride and the welcoming sight of the Bush Inn. We’re staying a few miles away at Wheyrigg and, while Ben and Gary have a refreshing cider, John (who is on antibiotics and therefore off alcohol) tries to order a cab. This takes some time – due just as much to difficulty in getting a phone signal as the scarcity of Colins in the area – and involves much discussion with a man at the bar who runs a B&B in Bowness, and speaking to someone in Wigton who is only prepared to do the job for the princely sum of £40. However, eventually, somebody more accommodating called Sean is found who can pick us up in 20 minutes. Shame…that means a second cider for Ben and Gary. We arrive at Wheyrigg around 7 o’clock for a cost of only £15 and, although Sean can’t do the return journey tomorrow morning due to a Manchester Airport booking, he says that he will be able to pick us up tomorrow afternoon and take us to Carlisle station. Pre-supper showers at Wheyrigg prove to be variable, but food and drink is more than acceptable and, having been unable to find us a cab for tomorrow morning, our host kindly offers to drive us to Kirkbride himself. Result.

Day 83 – Flimby to Siloth

After the irritations of yesterday, everything proceeds pretty much to plan today. A good breakfast cooked and served by a man who admits to being a Chelsea supporter (so he’s happy that Spurs were pegged back to one-all by West Brom last night) and Flimby Colin arrives at 8:45 to take us back to yesterday’s finishing point. He also says that he may well be able to take us from Siloth to Carlisle this afternoon but that we should phone to confirm later this morning. We get a bit of beach (or shingle) action as soon as we leave Flimby, but then need to go back up to the coast road in order to get round Maryport harbour and marina. After that….well, it’s low tide and a wide stretch of firm sand extends before us all the way to Allonby. It’s a bright clear day; we think we can make out the Isle of Man to the west; and the views over the Solway Firth to Scotland are pretty special. If it wasn’t for the rather “brisk” northerly breeze in our faces, it would be absolutely perfect. We reach Allonby after a couple of hours, and John pops back to The Ship to collect the phone charger which he’s realised he left there earlier. A phone call to Flimby Colin also confirms his availability at 2:30 this afternoon, and he says that we should meet him outside the tattoo parlour in Siloth which, we have to assume, isn’t a sprawling bustling metropolis! The next section from Allonby to just beyond Mawbray involves occasional diversions from the beach into the dunes and what are apparently called “raised beaches” but, during the final hour or so on the approach to Siloth, we can once again stay on the sands – albeit, with the tide coming in, we need to keep edging progressively closer to the shoreline. When we eventually move up into the dunes, we are greeted by the rather splendid sight of Siloth on Solway Golf Course which we walk around, passing the club house, before entering Siloth itself. And it isn’t sprawling. Essentially, it’s the crossroads of a couple of streets, and the tattoo parlour is on the street leading in from the golf course. It’s 2:20 and, after postcard purchase at a shop on the crossroads, we phone Flimby Colin and ascertain that he’s almost with us. A couple of minutes later, he is. We’ve walked just over 15 miles – without rushing unduly – and have arrived at practically the same time as our transport. Ben takes the front seat for the 50 minute drive, hearing quite a bit about the floods in the area during the course of the journey. We get to Carlisle in good time for our trains and make arrangements with our “chauffeur” to do the return trip when we arrive in Carlisle for our next walk in three weeks time. For now, rather than catch the London train for part of the way, John is going to wait for the slightly later Birmingham train. However, we have enough time to sit and have a can of cider each, conveniently (but somewhat expensively) provided by a Costa Coffee outlet adjacent to “our” platform.  

Day 82 – Workington to Flimby

A major transport problem was bound to happen at some stage, and perhaps we’ve been fortunate that nothing of real significance has happened during the first 81 days. Our plan today is to go by train to Carlisle and then take a cab to Workington in the hope of getting the day’s walking under way around noon so as to reach our overnight stop at The Ship in Allonby by early evening. However, due to an incident at Carnforth involving a maintenance train, all mainline services from the south are terminating at Preston. In addition, earlier delays caused by trackside/signalling problems mean that we’re over an hour late arriving into Preston and have missed another train which would have got us to Lancaster in time to catch the train round the coast to Workington. Replacement bus services are available, but the queues are very long and slow moving. The prospect of waiting for what would probably be a couple of hours to take an unpredictable bus journey to Carlisle and then still need to get to Workington, is unattractive at best. Careful consideration of the limited available alternatives results in us deciding that the best option (i.e. the one with fewest things to go wrong) is to wait for the next coastline train from Preston to Workington – changing at Barrow. Therefore, just after noon, rather than starting our walk from Workington as planned, we are ensconced in a pub outside Preston station having a drink and an early lunch. The coast trains eventually get us to Workington around 4:30, and it then takes another 10 minutes or so to retrace our steps to where we finished on day 81. This leaves us with a maximum of two and a half hours walking, of which the first hour is spent getting round the western and northern sides of Workington before turning north and spending much of the second hour alongside roads or on cycle tracks due to supposed erosion of the coastal route. We had hoped that even this limited amount of walking might get us as far as Maryport, but we eventually finish almost a couple of miles short of there at Flimby. A lady who sees us at a bus stop poring over maps and smart phones informs us that no buses run through to Allonby at this time of day but, with her assistance and following a couple of phone calls to The Ship, we manage to track down a local cab driver (so local that his car emerges from a side street almost opposite the bus stop) who takes us to Allonby and agrees to come and take us back to Flimby in the morning. We arrive at The Ship soon after 7:30 and, because the chef has stayed on to cook supper for us, we eat as soon as we’ve taken our bags to our rooms. Tasty food washed down, unusually, with a couple of beers and followed, less unusually, by a glass of malt.

Day 81 – St Bees to Workington

Comfortable night, and a helpfully early breakfast is provided by Carole who runs the Albert. Just as helpfully and very generously, she also provides – at no extra charge – some refuelling rolls and chocolate for the day. She is somewhat surprised to hear that this will involve us walking around St Bees Head saying that, after all the recent rain, the tracks will be very slippy, but she sees us cheerily on our way. In terms of hospitality and value for money, the Albert has scored very highly. We walk out of town in a light drizzle which soon clears and there’s no evidence of the anticipated slippiness on our climb up to the southerly section of St Bees Head. However, on a slightly downhill – but otherwise perfectly innocent looking – stretch along the top of the Head, Ben comes a cropper twice in the space of a few minutes, with the resultant state of his trousers confirming how muddy the underfoot conditions are. We descend with due care and attention to the stream which leads into Fleswick Bay and which marks the boundary between the South and North Heads. But when we’ve crossed the stream, the slippiness of the very smooth rock on the north bank sloping very gently back down to the water gives slippiness a bad name. The only way we’re able to negotiate it is by slowly sidestepping along the top with our backs to the stream and clinging on (where necessary/possible) to the branches of bushes alongside the rock. Eventually, and without undue incident, we climb to the top of the North Head and continue towards Whitehaven. Although the early morning drizzle has held off, it’s still cloudy and dull, and the views out to sea are not particularly inspiring. Apparently the Isle of Man is out there somewhere. This part of the Cumbria Coastal Way now also forms part of the England Coast Path which is opening in sections with completion due in 2020 (where will we have reached by then?). We descend from St Bees Head, passing old pit chimneys to reach the attractive harbour at Whitehaven. The route out of the town is less attractive, initially alongside the railway and then joining a road outside Parton. Most days involve a navigational glitch, and today’s occurs after we’ve left Parton. Having crossed some fields, we need to go through a short tunnel under a railway bridge to follow a stream and rejoin the road. However, some works are being carried out to the bridge, and temporary barriers have been placed at both ends of the tunnel with sacks of rubble up against them. The ensuing debate on what to do is speedily concluded. John pulls aside the barriers (we replace them afterwards of course) and, scrambling over a few sacks, we walk through the tunnel to be greeted by only mild looks of irritation from the workmen on the other side. For the most part, the remainder of the day’s walk is away from the sea along enclosed tracks and/or alongside the railway through Harrington to Workington. We finish on the southern side of the town so that we can get to Workington station in time for our train to Carlisle. This mission is duly accomplished and we catch our mainline trains home from Carlisle, with John taking the London train as far as Preston, thus enabling us to share a farewell drink or two.

Day 80 – Ravenglass to St Bees

Travel to the first couple of days walking of 2016 gets off to a promising start with the train to Preston arriving on time thus allowing a leisurely stroll at the station to catch the train for Barrow/Ravenglass. However, there’s a slight delay to its departure and, although this puts us less than 10 minutes behind schedule, the supposed “connecting” train at Barrow isn’t held. We decide not to wait 50 minutes for the next one and phone for a cab instead and buy some sandwiches while we wait for it to arrive. The drive around the coast – past familiar places such as Askham and Broughton – takes some time, and we arrive in the car park of the Ratty Arms at Ravenglass around 1:00pm. Given the floods which have hit Cumbria since we were last here – and which continue to affect the area (mainline trains are still not running north of Carlisle) – it’s a pleasant surprise to continue our northward journey in dry weather. Soon after leaving Ravenglass, we have to stop at a railway crossing as the train which we could have waited for at Barrow passes by. This means that throwing some money at Cumbria Colin has saved us about 15 to 20 minutes. Not hugely significant, but it proves to be quite welcome later in the day. The walk to Seascale, through Saltcoats and Drigg, is a mixture initially of fields and enclosed tracks, and then of pebbled beach and sand dunes. A path alongside the railway gets us from Seascale to Sellafield and, whilst getting past the power station there doesn’t present the problems encountered at, by way of example, Hinkley Point and Heysham (bloody Heysham!) a gentle grassy climb out of Sellafield involves a bit of fence scramblage which indicates that we could have strayed slightly from the prescribed route. However, we get back on track in time to reach the path over the railway bridge across the River Eben. On the approach to Braystones, we manage to get some beach action, but the beach quickly becomes less and less sandy, and the stretch from Nethertown towards St Bees is continuous pebbles and stones. It’s now late afternoon, but at least we can see what’s in front of us because, fortunately, the daylight/twilight just about holds until we leave the beach a mile or so south of St Bees. At one point, there’s also a helpfully illuminating beach bonfire outside one of the many huts in the area, but awareness of underfoot conditions would certainly have been more problematic had we arrived 20 minutes later by waiting for the train from Barrow. Torches are required for the half an hour walk along a minor – and relatively traffic free – road into St Bees and to our overnight resting place, the Albert Hotel which is a small pub with a few rooms. In accordance with custom established over previous years, we have a couple of welcoming drinks before getting ready for supper. This isn’t available at the Albert, so we’ve booked a table at the Manor, about 200 yards up the street. Food nothing special (particularly the fish) but, as always, the wine hits the spot. So do the whiskies which are taken on board by way of nightcappage on our return to the Albert.