Alfie slept surprisingly well as when something really unexpected happened he was,like so many people,unable to process the information that well,and would toss and turn like a good-in.As he spied Tricksy from the corner of his eye,he released that he had shared many memories with his canine friend.He had this habit,probably one shared with others he thought,of talking to Tricksy as if a human and he wasn’t always able to stop it.As he knew that it’s wasn’t exactly PC to be talking to your dog in a way that you might talk to you best friend or child,he tried to break free of the habit with varying degrees of success.This morning was a case in point.
Having sat down to eat his breakfast,he found the whole stay at the Red Lion quite a pleasant one,and as was his thing,he would write a good review on Trip Adviser.Sometimes Alfie knew that he liked the sound he f his own voice,a trait shared with many men and he knew that this trait had been tempered by being around other people.What Alfie thought was sometimes very clear in his win mind,not to be challenged by another trusted friend who could perhaps identify where his arguments lack gravitas.He didn’t mind this,but could get very opinionated about music,and over the years he had developed an almost obsessional interest for the subject.As these fleeting thoughts entered his mind,Alfie, pondered on the day ahead.When he had planned his trip,he hadn’t factored in that he would be spending so many nights in pubs,and wondered wether he might have to re-evaluate his priorities somewhat .It wasn’t that he was broke or anyth no,more that he didn’t want to blow all the money that he had put aside for the trip before he reached Bude.Just then,the taste of that bacon and the sheer warm on his palette of that scrambled egg did give him cause to pause a little.Yes,Alfie liked the idea of camping,but maybe the comforts of a warm bed,and good food were quite a pull on him.He wasn’t as hardy as he liked to think,and maybe he was beginning to realise that about himself.That,I’m going to run 10k this morning is all very well in our head,but the reality of doing it is far more complex.
What with these mental excursions and the like,Alfie had cleaned forgotten that he needed to pack up his rucksack ready for the next leg of his trip which would take him to Tintagel.Tintagel was a place that evoked memories that always lifted Alfie,and it was the place that he had spent holidays in,that is,working holidays.Alfie had always worked in seasonal work as a teenager,doing whatever needed to be done I suppose.He had worked in gift shops,and he had worked in a shop that his brother Malcolm had leased for a season,selling slate crafts that were made at Delabole by his brother .Alfie hadn’t minded working there in the shop and he had enjoy yet meeting the tourists there who flocked that part of Tintagel and enjoy that part of North Cornwall very much.
So,this would be his goal today to at least reach Tintagel and he might take a detour via Port Isaac that had been the adopted place called Port Wenn in the TV series “Dr Martyn “,as he had a fondness for this North Cornish fishing Port ,and as a teenager had visited the place quite a bit.
He paid his bill and headed out of Wadebridge to re-locate the Atlantic way.