This day was much better weather-wise, and see above for my first stop: that's the view from the front door of Ferryhill Town Hall, where I visited in the hope of gaining the signatures I'd missed the night before. No chance of that: the girl on reception went in the main room to look, and came back, to tell me that there was no-one else in the building. She signed, anyway..My enthusiasm was given a bit of a knock in Ferryhill library, though. It wasn't that they weren't interested, it was that I didn't have my 'talk' sorted, and they were busy. I tried a bit, and managed to get a signature from a guy on a computer, and a women behind the counter, but I learned a lesson here. They -understandably - thought I was some idiot on the make for money, and I left knowing that I needed to work on my approach. In truth, a lot of pressure has been taken off me by the T-shirts - they do more in a glance than any words can do, and during the course of this walk tens of thousands of people are going to see the website address. On the road out of Ferryhill, I decided that I needed to use the phrase 'walk for the history of England'. People are reticent to sign anything - no matter how good the cause - within seconds of being handed a flyer, and it's crucially important that this bid/walk/cause doesn't give the impression of being pushy. Giving a flyer and the 'history' phrase is the best I can hope to get over unless I actually manage to 'get into conversation' with people.
Still, this was a great day. Two years earlier, I'd cycled to Leeds down this route, and I got my first and only bit of abuse from a group of kids hanging around that fenced playing area just outside Chilton, but this time - nothing, and I pushed over the roundabout to Newton Aycliffe, and a pub called 'The Gretna Green' where I 'flyered' two guys at the bar, and a group of 6 men and women in the corner. It couldn't have been more different: the two at the bar thought it was excellent, and signed straight away, giving me best wishes etc, but the six..I gave them 10 minutes and then sort-of stood a bit close shuffling my shoulders. The guy I'd spoken to looked away, another shrugged, and the other four paid no attention. No interest at all.
Anyway, it was here that I turned over my first page on my route-map of nine photocopied and stapled pages. I stomped forward into the drizzle, and Darlington. I know this area well, having taken MANY coaches through here, and the town begins with a string of detached houses, with their own driveways, before you get into the place properly, at a Morrisons. I stopped in a corner shop, where I flyered two guys, who said lots of stuff like 'amazing..good on you..'
It was in the town centre that the T-shirts really started making their mark: EVERYONE looked, and the URL at the bottom isn't the most difficult one to remember, so this was the first time I really got the feeling I've got to know constantly since - that I'm a walking beacon for the bid.
I stopped under the clock tower, and found my way to the Dolphin Leisure Centre for a bit of opportunism. I managed to get the duty manager -Sarah - and she was fine with it, but after Ferryhill, I'd decided to hand the flyer over, and say 'I'll come back tomorrow wen you've had time to digest it' Then I went for another DSCB in the Penny..something pub, where the T-shirts again worked their magic. First to sign was the barmanageress, and a when a punter asked 'what's it for?' and I said 'the history of England' I'd hardly finished the phrase before he said 'give me the book -I'm signing'. His name was Peter, and his mate was called Hugh. Another guy joined in, too, but it was time for me to go up the hill to the station and meet my contact, Leon Rogers.
On the way, I got a call confirming I had somewhereto stay in Chesterfield, so it was now only Loughborough to find. Outside the station was Leon, a newly-ordained curate who I believe is a few years younger than me, he drove me to his house in the suburbs of Darlington, where I met his wife, Carina, who's expecting in a month or so, and their dog, Benedict (Biscop? Pope?), a one-yr old jack russell who is without doubt the most energetic living creature I've EVER SEEN! Ben 'walked me' around the park, and with one bite, destroyed the collection of feathers I'd been taping to a strap of my bag. Leon and I spoke quite a bit, in his garden, over a few beers, and the chilli we all had was GORGEOUS. I got a lovely room, and my T-shirt washed (again - but it's needed)
All in all, the exceptional level of hospitality was upheld once again
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