Okay I will start today's post with some consumer advice. Namely never buy anything from Millets, and never buy any boots made by Peter Storm. Still if you are a regular walker, you probably know that already. Why magazines such as 'Country Walking' or 'Trail' can't spell out simple tips like that I don't know. Actually whilst I am on the subject, don't buy Fuji Finepix cameras (specifically the F45-fd or F40-fd).
So anyway today's walk was intended to be a repeat of the one I did with Helen in July, from Wimbledon Park to Osterley. Regular readers will remember however that two walks back, my Peter Storm boots had started to disentegrate in their inner soles, causing massive blisters on the soles of my feet. Last time out, I wore trainers, however for today's jaunt I had filled in the holes with chewing gum and then put two new cushion inner soles in them. The result being an even larger chunk of skin taken off both heels, and the neccessity of having to curtail the walk at Richmond Station.
Whether this was an omen or not I don't know, but the headline on the front of The Metro on my journey to the start read something like: 'On your own in a park, then you are a pervert'. So without getting too much into the logic of that one, I decided I had better not hang around in Wimbledon Park for too long. I was there long enough to see across the boating lake, the builders hard at work at The All England Tennis Club. Yet even as I had got to the exit of Wimbledon Park, immediately I knew the boots were going to give me problems.
Anyway into Wimbledon Common past the Windmill, which seemed to be getting a makeover, and the boots were getting worse. Maybe by this time the pain had put a strange look on my face, as all the lone women in the common out walking their dogs, seemed to give me the impression they were avid Metro readers. Anyway by the time I had got to the bridge that crosses the A3 and takes one into Richmond Park, I was officially in agony, felt like I was walking on fire, and just wanted to quit. Unfortunately that is a point of the course where there are no quit options, so I had no choice but to make my way across Richmond Park. However having hobbled to the exit by Petersham, I decided not to quit out there, but instead carry on for another mile and a quarter to Richmond Station, which meant I would have at least completed the official Capital Ring section from Wimbledon Park to Richmond at seven and a half miles.
Ultimately I cannot say anything positive about this walk as it was just an exercise in living with excruciating pain. Needless to say when I finally got home and got the boots off, all the skin was off both heels as well, with the insoles a scrunched up bloody mess (so for another week I am going to be unable to walk). Now okay this problem has come about once I started carrying about 9kg of ballast in my backpack. However last time out my trainers had proved able to cope with that, on the same route that the Peter Storm boots first gave me this problem, therefore the problem is the boots. Shit, why don't I make more of a point of keeping receipts.