Looking down from Cleeve Hill onto a sea of fog (from picturesofengland.com)

Dursley town centre

Dursley Raglan House where Mikael Pederson invented the Dursley-Pederson bicycle

Glastonbury revellers welcoming Russell (in his dreams)

If the Midlands was the nadir of the walk, then the walk through the Costwolds to Bath, and then from Bath to Taunton, has been not the nadir. This means that it has been a little better.

This is because the Cotswold area includes some nice hills, pleasant little villages and some very friendly people. And in terms of pace, it has been a relative stroll compared to the last few weeks, and time has been taken to enjoy the verdant countryside before winter gives it the treatment.

The highlights include Cleeve Hill, which overshadows Cheltenham, where one has a lovely view across to the racecourse (and Wales - if that takes your fancy). If one was a tight gambler, one may decide to sit here to watch the races with mobile phone in hand to place bets, rather than pay an entrance fee. One is also less likely to get into fights with people and absolutely ruin them.

The village of Dursley was also very nice, and a Frenchman and his wife kindly had me to stay there, where they cooked me vegetables from their garden and gave me wine and beer and let me watch Match of the Day, and it made me feel that actually people are ok and that everything's going to be fine.

I also had a brief stop in Glastonbury, where it was noticed how mad the place is. Right beside me, amongst very bohemian and hippy lookalike folk, were two buskers playing in tandem two completely different songs.

The one on the floor was singing "I shot the sheriff", whilst the one standing up was just shouting garbage. It was pretty awful and I had the suspicion that maybe they'd been smoking the old peyote and these thoughts were confirmed when passing by I spotted spliff smoke coming out of their drug-holes.

And I thought I saw Flash, but later I realised it was just an illusion created by passively inhaling the fumes of the buskers who were literally off their groodies.

For those of you who love stats, 884 miles have been walked.

For those of you who don't love stats, and prefer vague and unhelpful comparisons, then the distance walked is equivalent to 25,000 blue whales lying in a row with their tongues out, plus a couple of double decker buses, and a skip full of toxic waste.