Walsall to Wembley: The walk, day four

The soles of my feet are becoming very painful, the three blisters have turned to five, my calves are constantly tight, my hamstrings are tight, my repaired knee is twinging a little, my normal knee is throbbing more, my right hip is sore and my shoulders are killing me. Bad times.

My last post was really grumpy as Monday was really tough. It was my first day completely on my own, beside a half hour visit from our lovely producer, Fiona, and her nice cameraman friend, Dale.

A lot of my frustration bore from the fact that towpaths didn't really exist. It was just bumpy grass – which is really uneven and hurts the soles of your feet something rotten. Tarmac is such a beautiful thing – every time my feet touch it, I hear angels sing. I will never take Tarmac for granted again. At one point – I was so happy to see it I contemplated lying down on it, just to savour it. But then after 500 yards – it disappeared! WHO LAYS 500 YARDS OF TARMAC?! What is that about? Either way, I was less than amused that I was Tarmac teased. Some paths have a little bit where cyclists obviously go – but large stretches didn't even have that!

My feet were sore and sensitive, the weather was rainy every 10 minutes, and I ended up walking nearly three miles more than intended. Boy was I grumpy!

Here's a comedy story for you: I had no-one to meet me after my walk, so I had to call a taxi. The driver who picked me up was a chirpy chappy. He asks: "You doing a walk?" (Apparently my walking like I was 90, with a huge bag and flag sticking out didn't give it away.)

"Yes I am", I said as I I explained it all.

He was interested: "Where you walking from?"

"Walsall," I answer.

"Walsall by Birmingham?" he asks.

"Yes" I reply.

"What's the cause?"I explain in detail.

We get to where I am staying and he says: "That's £12.60 please."

He then stops himself mid-sentence and says, "Hold on, this is all for charity isn't it?"

"Yes sir," I reply, hoping that I've got a free ride.

"Respect to you my friend," he says. "Lets just call it £10." Oh I did laugh. What a star.

Then I get to Keith's house, which is where I'm staying for the night, and it is the nicest house ever! It's really classy, with rugby and cricket memorabilia up around the house.

Keith is a lovely chap who cooks a mean shepherd's pie!

It really was perhaps the nicest house I have ever been too in my life. It even smelt of 'high class'. A smell I am not used to anyway!

Keith put me up for free, cooked me tea, made me breakfast, ensured I had everything I wanted, then drops me off in morning and slipped me a handsome donation. What a legend of a man.

I was up and out early, on the road at 8.25am.

My feet were really hurting today, the soles of my feet were very sensitive. I was happy as I knew the first few miles were on the road, so I got to enjoy some special man time with some beautiful tarmac. In talking to Keith who looked at my route this morning – he suggested some more lovely tarmac time. I looked at the route and agreed wholeheartedly.

After about seven miles, I hit the M5 and looked at my route and on the fly changed it and stayed on the M5 for about another five miles.

It was amazing. I know how silly it sounds but walking on strong, firm concrete really changed my moral.

I was worried on Monday about how much pain I was in so soon into the walk but knowing I was on concrete for 12-13 miles was super positive and helped me cut a mean pace. Then I cut in and joined back up with the Grand Union Canal up until Gaydon. I tell you what – there are some hills around there! My word! On some stretches I may as well have sung the Emmerdale theme tune! It was just fields and fields and hills and more fields. I even saw some cute lambs. I love lambs! Sheep just stare at me and bleat rather annoyingly. I wish they could stay as lambs! I suppose my folks probably thought the same thing about me. (Yes, I do let out a "baaaaa" from time to time).

Either way – today's walk was much better than yesterday's. I am a little anxious now that the mental game needs to kick in, because my body will start hurting a lot now. As Ronan Keating once said: "When the going gets tough, the tough gets going."

I must give a wee shout out to where I am staying today. Even though it required me to go back on my journey by 20 miles, Sally, at One Abbey Lane, put me up for free in a gorgeous trendy town apartment, booked me in at a local pub for some grub, and even did some washing for me (and the washing was sweaty t-shirts and dirty pants and socks! That's an MBE for doing that right there!). I cannot recommend this place highly enough.

Watching my legs twitch away like crazy when I'm in the bath is odd! My quads just pop up and down like they're having a chat as I am sat there. Weird.

I was gutted to miss the Saddlers' match. I genuinely thought to myself – I am only an hour's drive away. I should go, then thought half the point is for me to walk to Wembley, so to come back kind of breaks that magic! Shame, another good point and according to my updates from the old man – we are all over them in the second half.

I forgot to say – on Saturday as I was walking through Brum, I came across a swan that didn't like me. It stared at me, I stared at it, as I remember someone once telling me that if a swan starts acting up, then you need to show you aren't scared and that you're an alpha male. It hissed. I kept walking. It started flapping its wings, so I flinched my head at it – giving it the old Wealdstone Raider act: 'You want some?' It flapped harder. I ran away. Now before you judge me, I was in his house (canal, whatever!) and I was invading his space. I am not afraid of swans and I refute any allegations supporting this view.

Anyway – its time for bed so I will share a few more stories tomorrow.

Distance – 17.3 miles. Time – 5 hour, 47 minutes. MPH – 2.99

67 miles to go.

Five days to Wembley.

If you'd like to sponsor Graeme's walk for Walsall Society for the Blind, you can do so here.