And so it starts again. A year later than planned, it’s time for me to set off on the final four legs of my rather strange odyssey. This last year has been an odd one for everybody and the permission for us to stay overnight in hotels was only confirmed a week prior to me heading out – I was pretty lucky when I booked them back in September. It’s been a rough year for a lot of people – not the least of which has been the entertainment and hospitality industries. It’s been an eventful one for me as well. When lockdown started last year, I was already off work suffering from stress and lockdown threw me into full blown depression. As a result, when I should have been completing W-Z, I was just getting ready to go back to work. Since then I’ve changed jobs and managed to injure my back. Oh, and I also had a flood – given the fact that I live in a second floor flat, the flood was extremely unexpected.

On top of that, I’ve had to get to grips with a new set of minions – sorry, I mean “staff”. My physio has prescribed me orthotics to wear in my shoes as he claims they will help with the back (they do). However, having a solid piece of plastic in my shoes has also caused me a severe pain in my left heel. Apparently, this is planar fasciitis. Those of you out there who are considering getting old, take warning. Oh, and I started a diet back in February. I’ve been following the keto diet. Yes, feel free to roll your eyes, but it seems to be working. One of the things I’m concerned about is how I’m going to be able to stick to it while on holiday.

Given everything that’s happened, it’s a relief to be heading out to W, though of course I’m doing so in a world that has seen a lot of changes. As a result, the Age Appropriate Hoodie and Baseball Cap have been joined by the Obligatory Face Mask. Over the last year, I’ve seen a lot of strange responses to Covid-19 – and a lot of even more strange ideas from people about where they should wear a face-mask, how they should wear a face mask and what social distancing actually is. So my excitement is tempered with a bit of trepidation about going on holiday. This will be the first time I’ve left the local area for six months and, like many people, I’m not sure how I’m going to react to dealing with people in crowds.

Why Wells? Having already been to Bath, I really had no choice.

So, how could I possibly miss up the chance to go to Wells?

The day is apparently a warm and balmy 13 degrees. Clearly the miasma of Slough is somehow affecting it as it actually feels bloody freezing. The age appropriate hoodie goes on and I head down to the train station. I have an E-ticket for part of my journey today – because there is no direct train service to Wells, I have to go to Bristol and then complete my journey by bus. The E-ticket has come with a reserved seat, so once I get to the station, I try and work out where I need to stand. Apparently I need to be in Zone 1. In vain, I look up and down the platform to work out where Zone 1 is, but there aren’t any signs anywhere that I can see. Shrugging at the usual incompetence of the Slough station set-up, I finally spot the extremely large painted panels on the ground that indicate where the zones are. So, I then have to shrug at my own inability to spot extremely large signs. I give myself the excuse that I’m not wearing my glasses. I would usually blame the people standing on it, but there aren’t any. There are very few people on the platform and I wonder whether this is still people’s reaction to Covid-19. Like many other places, Slough station has taken action to make sure that people don’t sit beside each other. However, I think they’ve got it slightly wrong.

Clearly the decision was made by the same people who said “A cow is loose? Okay, just hit it with your car then.”

Having found out where Zone 1 is, I make the trudge to the end of the platform. As the train approaches, it slows down to the same speed that Boris Johnson approaches credibility. It’s so slow that I’m convinced that it will never actually reach me. Eventually it does so, and I shake the cobwebs off and get on board. I take my reserved seat – which was clearly needed as I am the only person in the carriage. It was interesting, by the way, when booking train tickets this year. They were available much later than normal, and even once released there were limited numbers. Half of the seats in this train have red tickets on them stating that no -one should sit there. I wonder how they’re going to keep going if they can’t sell enough seats to fill the trains?

But that doesn’t bother me too much and I settle down to “Dickens – Public Life and Private Passion” by Peter Ackroyd.

Soon, I am back at the delight that is Reading station. Much quieter than I have seen it before, which does little to disguise the fact that it is a dump. As we pull in, everyone on the platform is masked up and huddled up in thick winter clothing. Except for one man who is wearing a running vest and shorts and no mask. Wondering why, I head off to get my train to Bristol Temple Meads. I then head back to the same platform that I just arrived at and hope that no-one noticed my largely pointless journey up to the concourse. My reserved seat is in the same carriage as my first train, so I assume (possibly rashly) that if I stand in the same place as the last train, I should be in the right place. And, miraculously, I am. I get on to a packed carriage – three of us. this time. This blog will end up a lot shorter if I don’t find some people to make fun of.

The journey to Bristol Temple Meads is largely uneventful and on the way I find myself reading about Dickens making his first train journey on what was then a new and exciting mode of transportation. In a rare moment of philosophical insight, I reflect on how far we’ve come in 200 years. Just then, the train stops at Swindon, and I reflect on the fact that there are still some places that make me yearn for the cheery days of the Victorian workhouse.

At Bristol, I head out to find the bus to Wells. It’s sunny now, but still chilly so that fact that I’m wearing shorts is still a little unusual. A veteran who did three tours in Afghanistan strikes up a conversation with me – solely because I’m wearing my Help for Heroes t-shirt. He heads off, but not before asking me if I have any mental health problems. Clearly I made a good impression. Or maybe it was the shorts.

Finally, my bus arrives and I manage to snag the front upstairs seat on the bus. The delay has given me time to work out my journey for tomorrow. Google Maps is happily telling me that it’s going to take me 21 hours. After some work, I manage to get that down to a more acceptable 6. It’s still going to be a bit of a mission tomorrow. The journey itself is relatively peaceful – at least until someone gets on downstairs with their dog, which proceeds to bark. It’s OK though – it only barks when people get close to it. “Close” seems to include anyone getting on and off the bus. I’m damn glad that it’s downstairs and I try to tune it out and enjoy the countryside on the approach to Wells.

OK it’s a road, but it does at least prove I was awake.

Wells is a tiny city – apparently the smallest city in England. The streets are narrow and cramped and as the bus pulls up, I spot the frontage of the Crown in Wells – where I am staying the night. It’s market day here and stalls are crowded all around the outside of the pub. I rest up by the fountain and look around. For some reason, this all looks vaguely familiar.

I head up the street and see a sign for something called the Bishop’s Palace. My sense of familiarity increases.

It’s not until I post the pictures, that a friend points out that this is where they filmed parts of Hot Fuzz. And I’m staying at the building used as the frontage for the pub. Which may, in part, explain the attitude of the staff – but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I head into the Bishops Palace and get some lunch. I choke down the urge to get a burger and chips and instead order a Ploughmans Lunch as it’s the least carb-filled meal I could find. In order to comply with Covid restrictions, I have to give my name. Apparently “Andy” is a very rare name – or I’m not enunciating properly – and so I go and pick up my lunch when the woman yells for “Addie”. By then, there are no tables available – and I can’t really share a table under current Covid rules – so I sit down on a park bench and have my lunch while fending off a particularly predatory pigeon. It’s very attractive here and I feel myself actually relaxing. Of course, the fact that I’m eating my first carbs for weeks might have something to do with it – BREAD! Where have you been?!?!

I can hear the low murmur of people talking and I realise that this has been the first time for months that I have been anywhere that I’ve been able to hear that. I wonder how many other people here are in the same position? As I finish my lunch, the sun comes out. The rest of the day is warm as long as I’m in direct sun – good job really, or the shorts would have been a very unwise sartorial choice.

After lunch (and it’s a particularly good one), I pay to get into the main body of the Bishops Palace. It’s surrounded by a moat and partially derelict.

It also has artwork that doesn’t really match the palace itself, but is certainly interesting.

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It’s a really good place to explore and the weather warms up enough for me to stow the age appropriate hoodie. In the Chapel, I find this:

No mention of “baby eating” though – maybe it’s not a requirement anymore.

I then head up to Wells Cathedral which, like many others, is undergoing renovation.

Wells cathedral is spectacular and like the others I’ve visited gives a sense of peace, calm and awe. The central construction of the tower is quite unusual. This is one of the remarkable Scissor Arches:

There are some guides hanging around (they’re not allowed to do tours atm) and I ask one about the arches as they look so modern. He confirms that they were built in the late 1300’s although (as I have astutely observed) they do remind a lot of people of the work of Henry Moore. I nod sagely – I just thought they looked like an owl. I can’t deny how amazing they look and they do look years ahead of their time.

I really like Wells Cathedral and they have some nice touches here. A chapel has been put aside specifically for those people who are struggling in these difficult times and they have someone there to talk to people who need it. There is also a prayer that is placed centrally in the nave.

I have a lot of problems with religion – but not when it’s doing things like this. This is the good side of religion that more people need to see.

On the way out, I head to the obligatory gift shop and buy the obligatory bookmark.

I then head out into Wells to sort out my exit strategy for tomorrow. I have a ticket booked from Bristol Temple Meads at 09:45, so have to catch the 08:10 bus. I head down to find the bus station and on the way back, I get distracted by a Costa Coffee. I settle down to update my notes with a vat of coffee and the extremely odd and loud laugh of the barista echoing around the shop.

Having had a good wander, I head into the Crown in Wells for my overnight stay. To say that the man at reception was helpful would be over-selling it somewhat. His whole attitude was off-hand. He spent our entire conversation staring at a computer screen – so much so, that I was glad his hands were in view as I suspected he was watching porn. I told him I needed to get a bus at 08:10 so would need an early breakfast. He wrenched his gaze away from the computer and just repeated that breakfast was served from 07:30 onwards. Talking with him was odd. He was almost trying to banter, but his whole demeanour made it clear that he didn’t give a damn. I wandered off to find my room and eventually tracked it down. The room itself was comfortable, although a sign on the windows made it clear that I was not allowed to open them. Given the fact that it was hot and stuffy, I ignored that immediately. The room was the first one I’ve stayed in for ages where there was no information package – and no way to find out what the Wifi password was.

The room was comfortable, but was a twin room. As a result, I was charged a “single person supplement”. I can see the point of that when the hotel is full, but having to pay that when the hotel is virtually empty really annoys me. I sat down the bed and jumped up again as it gave way like a partially set jelly. It was so soft and wobbly that I checked to see it wasn’t a water bed. It wasn’t – it was just unpleasantly soft.

The oddly unfriendly manner of the staff extends to the restaurant. I started off ready to have a starter and a main course but after two incredibly uncomfortable conversations decided to just have a main course. I was actually pretty close to walking out. The lady who finally serves me saves the day as she is friendly and brings me a large glass of wine. When I say “large”, this is also a misnomer. I’m glad I didn’t go for a small glass as I hate drinking out of thimbles. Still, as this is the first alcohol I’ve had for four months, it’s probably better that it isn’t too big.

Dinner is accompanied by 1984 by George Orwell.

The restaurant is surprisingly busy and I get the only free table. For once, I’m not the only person dining alone but I’m sat by the entrance to the toilets. As a result, large portions of my meal are accompanied by the sound of the hand dryers blasting away. I go for the slow roasted pork belly, which is very tasty despite the apple sauce being a very odd pink colour and the skin not being crispy enough (I’ve watched enough MasterChef to know what it should be like). It’s a satisfying meal, but I’m not sure it’s worth £25.

My way back to the room is now blocked by a red velvet rope. The receptionist does an excellent job of ignoring me until I negotiate the rope and am halfway up the stairs, where he utters a sepulchral “Good night, Sir.” There’s a small cough at the start which must be his reaction to having to force a pleasantry out of his mouth. The overall impression is of Robert Pattinson attempting to play Lurch., Back in my room, I have a fight with the curtains as I struggle to get them behind the large dressing table that is in the way – presumably placed there in an attempt to stop me from opening the window. I eventually drift off to sleep, bring W to a close.