I left the Vicarage, and hit out through the south of Wakefield until I got to a little newsagents. Here, there was a lovely old woman who asked all about the bid, so I did the talk about the walk, also dropping in the fact that I didn't want any money, twice. She was really enthusiastic, and after she signed, she said' ..and how much money do you want?' I told her not to worry, and headed off the road following Judith's advice to follow a path towards 'Sandal Castle' See above for what it looks like from the road, and close up, there's enough of it left:
The fields below the castle are the site of the Battle of Wakefield, in 1460, which was one of the major skirmishes during the Wars of the Roses:
From the top of Sandal Castle, the view of Wakefield was great:
..and just before I left the castle, I got talking to a guy walking his dog. His name was Neil, and knew about the March, because he said that his grandfather had been on it, and, afterwards, had decided to move to Wakefield for work. I told him that it would probably have been the 12th of October 1936 when his grandfather passed through here with the March, and he was happy to find out.
Like the previous day, this walk was pretty easy. I went down the hill past a pub Neil had told me used to be frequented by Dick Turpin:
...and in a few miles, the walk became a little hilly,with a lot of woodlands. I felt that I was walking through a wilder landscape, and I came out at Newmillerdam, and this huge reservour:
I continued to climb, but had to stop a in a mile or so. I wasn't tired, but had spotted this written on the side of an old stone bridge:
The wall was covered with grafitti saying 'Yorkshire Miners' 'We want to go back to work' and 'Scargill out' . The paint was faded, but it could only had been put there during the Miner's Strike in 1985. If this is still there in another 25 year's time, this is going to be a site of real historical importance.
I walked on, until I got my first view of Barnsley:
There were some pretty rough-looking areas north of the town, with boarded-up pubs, and wasteland. To get into the town, you climb a huge hill, but that the top, at the bus-station, a REALLY FRENDLy guy started talking to me. His name was Eamonn, and he was employed by...the council, I think, to give travel info etc..He gave me a map, and told me where the Town Hall was, the Newspaper Offices, and...the statue of Dickie Bird, the famous cricket umpire.. He's from Barnsley, as is Michael Parkinson, and Darren Gough, I was told. I headed straight for the Town Hall:
..and spoke to 'Leah', who said she would distribute the flyers throughout the entire building, and that I should come back tomorrow: another Darlington Dolphin, I thought. Good start..
I spend the half-hour so sipping a coke in Walkabout, catching up on the blog, before I headed up the hill more, to the offices of the Barnsley Chronicle. There were a few seconds of explaining to the women behind the counter, but I think I came across as legitimate, so they told me to wait around the table for a reporter. He turned up a few minutes later, and asked me my age, and why I'm doing this crazy thing. He took notes down constantly during it, but as for whether it makes a story, I don't know. It'll be been in Tue or Wed, or Thur.
Then, I set off through Barnsley town centre. As a town, it funnels down a main shopping street towards a large indoor mall at the end, and I got loads of looks, but mostly of the type that look away straight afterwards. The women in The Chronicle offices had directed me out the back towards Doncaster Road, which starts after a sunken 60s roundabout, and I found the church _ St Peter's - easily..but not Osbourne Mews. Anyway, a phone call was all it took, and I met father Alan Briscoe, and his wife Pauline at...Osbourne Mews. Their house was full of books, and I spent most of the night talking, blogging, and reading a book on 'the Heritage of Britain', to gen up on the places I was going to. The meal was great, as well - chicken casserole -lovely.
The next day, not only had Pauline washed my T-shirts, but she'd also put a patch over the obscene hole that had formed in the 'central seams' area of my 'walking trousers'. These had only been bought on the Saturday before the walk - admittedly from Jarrow Peacocks for 16quid, but the hole had started in DARLINGTON, and that's a pretty poor show for pants, no matter how cheap.
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