The Soles of My Shoes

The End - a big thank you!

2013-03-13T18:00:00.000Z

That's it, folks!

Thank you so much for visiting. I hope that you've enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed hitching and writing.

Needless to say, I would LOVE you to share 'Soles' with your friends. Hitch-hiking only works through co-operation and this publishing model will only work through co-operation. Far more important to me than sales are readers, so if you've loved it, share it. Thanks!

And remember you CAN still buy a copy of the book. It's available in both paper and e-formats and the book comes with a bonus chapter, 'Lessons from the Road' - more stories and advice on how to hitch-hike in the UK.

Great news! Soles is now available in paperback for a princely £7.99!

It's OVER!

Of course, if you've missed anything, go back over the story so far. Here's part one: As I typed out one midsummer morning...

101: Goodbye Davey

2013-03-13T10:00:00.000Z

Henry drops us at Potters Bar station. The lights of the British Rail sign shine as if from childhood, seen through the eyes of a long-gone traveller, familiar but distant. Buses stand similar, knowingly red, but grey in the gloom. One will take us to Cockfosters and the Underground home. We look up the route on a map inside the station. We need the 298. A bus swings past us to the bus stand.
'It's the 298!' I shout.
'Go, go!'

I run from the station, across the road with my pack, over two cobbled pedestrian crossings. The bus pulls in behind me, but the engine stutters to silence. I look at its destination board: 298 Potters Bar. It's terminated.

Mya goes to the open door. 'Are you going to Cockfosters?' she asks the driver.
'I will be in about ten minutes,' he replies in a proper London accent.
'Do you mind if we get on to wait?' she says. 'It's cold out here.'
He hesitates, as they all do. Then he relents, as they all do. 'Come on then.'
'Thank you!'

We pile onto the bus with all our bags. We can't swipe our Oyster cards because it's the last stop, so we head straight to the engine seats at the back for a bit of warmth.

After way less than ten minutes, the bus coughs into life and we shudder through a couple of streets to the depot. The seat below me is very warm. In fact, I think I smell something burning. The bus stops, lights go off, the door hisses open.
'Just having a quick break,' the driver shouts to us.
'Take your time,' Mya calls back down the aisle.
'I will!' And he lights a cigarette outside.

A few minutes later, we lurch from the stand and up a little hill back to Potters Bar and onto the 298 route to Arnos Grove. As we watch London turn into London, Mya leans on my shoulder and whispers, 'Do you think we can get away without paying?'
'I knew you were thinking that!' I say and we laugh conspiratorially.

Ten minutes later and it's already Cockfosters. We drag all our gear off in a hurry and skip out the door onto the pavement. A girl, sitting on a bench under the cover of the subway, smiles at our bags as we head down the steps to the trains.

We board the tube: a simple end to our short journey. It was short, but in five days we travelled from the suffocating concrete of Brent Cross to the high horizons of Ben Nevis – and back again. We travelled from the money and self-focus of London life to the generosity and altruism of life on the road and life in the hills. As the tube train rattles through the tunnels, I can feel myself slipping into a new normality. A man next to us is flicking through a copy of the Metro, as if nothing's happened. Mya is lolling her head against the glass of the carriage, her face drawn with sleep.

'I don't know the news,' I whisper across to her. It feels good to have been cut off from trivialities: the world didn't stop spinning, did it?
She looks across at the man with the newspaper and nods. I smile. She closes her eyes and goes back to lolling.

Then it's my stop. She opens her eyes. I stand up and give her the look with the raised eyebrows: This is it.
'Don't make that face!'
'I'll delete it.'
She doesn't stand up to say goodbye. I lean down to hug her, then straighten up as the train doors slide open.
'Goodbye Davey,' she says. 'It was nice hitch-hiking with you. I'll come and visit you in New Cross.'
I step off the train, into solitude again. I don't look back. I don't have to any more: I'm an optimist.

THE END

Great news! Soles is now available in paperback for a princely £7.99!

Hooked? Want more?

Sorry - it's all over!

Of course, if you've missed anything, go back over the story so far. Here's part one: As I typed out one midsummer morning...

You want even more than that?

Well congratulations! I'm delighted to inform you that you're eligible to buy 'The Soles of My Shoes' for your ipad, Kindle, NOOK or other e-reader - or even as a shiny new paperback!

100: Charles de Gaulle who?

2013-03-11T10:00:00.000Z

'My son is grown up now,' Henry says. 'But he'd admire what you're doing, with your adventures. He studied French at university and, as part of the course, he had to study abroad in France. So, of course, as all his mates went off to Paris, Bordeaux or Aix, my son went to Reunion Island – off the coast of Africa.'
'Ha ha, of course – what a genius!' I laugh. 'Reunion's still a département of France, isn't it?'
'That's right. He found it very hard, though. He was supposed to be teaching school children there, but he got no support whatsoever from his university. The experience made him grow up a lot, I think. He really struggled with how to teach until he realised that he had to engage the children's interest.'
'True!'
'It all started turning around when he realised that the children had no idea who Charles de Gaulle was, but all of them knew Thierry Henry, the footballer.'
'Ha ha!'
'So he started using sport as a way to engage the children in their studies. And that's the secret to teaching.'

Mya suddenly taps me on the shoulder and points out of the window. I turn and look: an acne-yellow moon hangs full and heavy over the motorway. I turn back and she's smiling. The night slips past.

Great news! Soles is now available in paperback for a princely £7.99!

Hooked? Want more?