I awoke at my body clock's usual time of six o'clock and after the morning's usual preparations, I proceeded to portage the bike, trailer and bags from the pasture out to the roadside crossing a style in a gap through the hedgerow which provided the cover for my campsite. I couple-up the bike with the trailer and together with bags in their place Is ready for the road to Plymouth, my last day in England before crossing to France. A new country and a new beginning. It felt somewhat exciting.

Under grey-sky morning the scenery looked underwhelming: bleak wheat stubble, and the road descended every hill steeply to the bottom only to climb the next just as steeply. The road farther on then was enclosed by high hedgerows and overhanging trees like a foliage tunnel and was forever twisty making it impossible to see very far ahead. Yet the cars were driven fast in a way which didn't take account of the many blind bends.

I wanted to stop on seeing a sign indicating a rest-place with picnic tables ahead, but on getting that far, saw that there wasn't any tables or even a clean place to sit down. Riding on a mile or so more I paused again by a wide patch of grass and thought to take a break, but felt a few spots of rain and remembered that the forecast for Tuesday was indeed for rain, so I shouldn't be waiting around. I kept on riding. Meanwhile the rain didn't materialize to anything much, barely wetting the road, and reaching Torpoint I took a local ferry across a narrow estuary to Plymouth.

Now as I write inside the big continental ferry terminal in Plymouth, I've bough my ticket for tonight's sailing to Roscoff. I have the whole day to pass here as it's only gone twelve o'clock. The day is depressingly grey though. I wonder what the weather ahead of me in France has in store. Meanwhile I've to buy a map and a few other thing this afternoon. Now with a half day's ride followed by half a day's rest, I should be able to make progress in France as I won't need another rest-day until next week. Later: I boil water for tea and make a sandwich lunch at a picnic table outside the passenger lounge. Afterwards, I clean the bike and check that the gears are working smoothly; and using a three millimetre alley key screw in the rear brake-pads because, with all the descending they've gone to the point whereupon I brake and not much happens.

I cycled into the city-centre. Alan the man whom I spoke with yesterday detested Plymouth saying "the Luftwaffe didn't do a good enough job!"; and so having suffered World War ll bombing raids, the whole of the commercial centre has been rebuilt since in dull featureless concrete blocks. Hailed with grandeur as "The Town of the future!" by grey nineteen-fifties planners. "Tomorrow's shopper will live in an efficient uncluttered world of straight lines!" I hear the black & white film footage still. Today a spiritless world of grey concrete and glass canyons wherein glaring colour stir out from stores.

At a big outdoor equipment store where I went to buy gas for my stove, the camping department was upstair on the first floor which is just great, as I'd have to leave the bike unattended a considerable time on a crowded city-street. A shop assistant downstairs whom I let know Is returning out to lock the bike (not that that saves my gear from possible theft) said, "bring the bike in!", though not having seen the bike yet, was rather taken aback some seconds later to see it's length trailer and all. And at the bookshop, the same problem presented itself, the maps where up on the first floor. Great! I didn't get to wheel my big juggernaut in along the bookshelves to the bemusement of bookbuyers though, instead I had to hope that nothing went missing while dashing up stairs, finding the maps, finding a Michelin France map, quickly paying and dashing back down and out to the street. Nothing was touched. A note here, much as I like the independents of solo-touring, two or more cyclists touring together don't experience the above dilemma. They can watch each other's back.

Fish & Chips are something I eat, then need at lease two weeks before feeling the urge to eat them again when I've forgotten how heavy and greasy they actually felt the last time, or whatever the cause, the reason for suddenly having the appetite to eat them again and half way through eating them again, regretting buying them in the first place. I ate my Fish & Chips which would be the last for awhile..........

.....And finally before returning for the long wait to board the ferry that evening, I went looking for a place to drink coffee, finding a place which was part coffee-shop, part art gallery, but best of all it had free wifi. While on line though, it was depressing to see no life in my MP3 player when plugged in to charge. I really only listen to music or the radio lying in the tent some nights when I don't feel like sleeping straightaway. My MP3 player has had quite a bit of use and supposedly they don't last forever. But seemingly the battery was so depleted that it needed some time in charging before showing any illumination, as after ten minutes it came to life. Happy again.