The Roaches


Cumbria Way - July 25th-29th 2005


Ann Baxter, Jane Salt, Mike Riley, Nick Barber, Ken Hodgkinson, Sean Bond
Gordon Darlington, Neil Scott, Alison Bond, Dave McNeaney

DAY 1 - Ulverston to Coniston

The team travelled up to Ulverston in three groups and arrived at various times during the afternoon of Sunday 24th July.

Sean, Alison, Ken and Ann arrived first and treated themselves to a pub lunch in the Hope and Anchor. This was washed down with a few beers with Ken diving into the red wine. The meals were huge and so a quick stroll around Ulverston was required in a weak attempt to return the stomachs back to normal.

The rest of the team arrived mid to late afternoon. Dinner was to be had in another Ulverston pub with the previous 'pubbers' planning a light snack - they couldn't face another huge meal. One hour later and ten huge meals were delivered to Sid's room. Sid was a local who had eaten in the King's Arms since 1943 - he died in 2004 weighing just over 84 stones.

The portions were massive - Nick's gammon was accompanied by half a pineapple and the chickens were more like Moas. A few beers were enjoyed in Ulverston and we all returned to the hotel in a well rounded state. Now that we didn't need to eat for a week the walking could begin.



The team at the official start of the Cumbria Way. This picture was taken by a couple from Lancashire who were also walking the route.


The weather was overcast but bright and the initial section of the walk traversed the farm land to the north of Ulverston whose sewerage system was bursting at the seams as a result of the toilet activity seen in the Lonsdale House hotel. Neil had bought the official Cumbria Way guide which provided detailed navigational instructions i.e.: over a stile, turn left through two farm gates etc.

This initially seemed slightly unnecessary as surely the popularity of the Cumbria Way meant that the route was safe in even the grimmest 'Hound of the Baskervilles' type fogs? As we continued on the route however we began to notice that the fields were covered in public rights of way and that careful route finding was required if we weren't to miss the route.



Neil spots something interesting in the bushes. Unfortunately Neil's camouflage failed to have the desired affect and so the rare Cumbrian Greater Spotted Hawkeye escaped.


The route continued sedately over gently undulating arable countryside for 5-6 miles. The hills of the Lake District could be seen directly ahead with Coniston, the day's destination, directly below the Old Man of Coniston. This was new territory for Ann and Macca as they had never taken on a long distance footpath before but both had taken part in the many practice walks that had taken place during the preceding months so no problems were expected.

Macca had added pressure in that he had approximately £1200 of charity awaiting him if he completed the walk - the challenge was on. The Old Man of Normacot wasn't with us this time so we were able to maintain a cracking pace throughout the walk. Terry was mentioned many a time on the first day as was Dave S who was probably landing in Greece as we approached the 10 mile mark.



Looking north to Dow Crag, The Old Man of Coniston and Wetherlam.


The scenery didn't change too much until we reached Coniston water but as the bulk of the Coniston hills had remained in view for most of the day the journey to Coniston water had seemed quite slow. There had been no pubs en route and so sandwiches were taken at a point where we were slightly lost.

The route had taken us into a confusing area area of small hillocks where the guide had directed us towards a large Oak tree and a route over a wall - neither were apparent. After eating our sandwiches we eventually found a tree and a gap in the walk which vaguely matched the description in the guidebook. Sod it - it was good enough and eventually we were back on track.



One of the few signs on the Cumbria Way. The signs were usually found where the route was obvious.


As we entered the Lake District National Park the scenery changed. The arable nature of the first half of the day changed into pleasant grassy paths surrounded by bracken. At times the bracken was head height with the path forging a convoluted route through the morass. If the day had been wet we would have got soaked to the skin as there was simply no way around the Cumbrian Triffids.



Preparing to enter the Forest of Monster Bracken.


The level of navigational involvement required had been underestimated and so we took it turns to take the guide and lead the team onward. We had reached Coniston water where the route followed its shores all the way to Coniston village itself - again though the number of paths and the generally cryptic descriptions in the guide meant that at times confusion reigned as to where we were and where we needed to turn off.



Coniston water from the woodland path.


The walk into Coniston was a pleasant affair and the Black Bull Hotel was reached without too much fuss - our lodgings for the night. More beers and more food (probably the smallest meal of the week) were enjoyed. The first day's walk had been much easier than the previous years 22 mile epic and so everybody was in good health.



First day over - time for more food and beer.


Once the confusion over who was sleeping where had been sorted (Ken wanted to sleep with Ann but Ann wanted to sleep with Gordon who wanted to sleep with Sean) we all retired to our rooms knowing that the next day's walk to Langdale would be a short 10 miler. We would also be venturing into the heart of the Lake District where both the mountains and the meals were bigger.

DAY 2 - Coniston to Langdale

This was forecast as being one of the most enjoyable days of the Cumbria Way. A 10 mile stroll through the valleys into Langdale. The weather was slightly warmer than the previous day and this was noticeable early on in the day as we climbed the easy gradients to Tarn Hows.

However the fine weather and beautiful scenery meant nothing as the day had already been ruined by one thing.... ...Macca's shirt! A monstrous multicoloured explosion of shite had hit the Lake District - it was absolutely f*****g horrid. We bit our lips and carried on regardless.



A rather nice cottage nr Tarn Hows. Notice how the colours merge into a melodic harmony - the senses captivated by the variation and seamless integration of a multitude of tones and hues.



Looking to the right however we have Macca's shirt. A manmade abomination of piss and puke that rapes all 5 senses. A cacophony of madness created by the mind of a colour blind serial killer.


We all hoped it would rain - Macca would then have to wear his waterproofs and hide the shirt away from public view. The rain never came and the public looked on in amazement. We reached Tarn Hows and rested on a grassy bank.



Preparing for the off at Tarn Hows.

From Tarn Hows we headed for Skelwith Bridge. The route followed narrow lanes and paths and we were finally getting a glimpse of the some of the best scenery the Lake District had to offer.



Mike's armpit - 'some of the best scenery the Lake District had to offer.'



Looking over to Fairfield and Red Screes from above Skelwith Bridge.


We descended into Skelwith Bridge and enjoyed a tea and scone at a rather posh riverside cafe. We surrounded a group of 'Hollywood wives' who were discussing the performance of their Porsches and X5's. We lowered the standard significantly by talking about blisters and the worsening state of our now violently puckered arses - a result of the serious toilet business in Ulverston. From Skelwith Bridge we headed towards Elterwater.

This was a pleasant walk alongside the River Brathay with the instantly recognizable profile of the Langdale Pikes looming in the distance. Some of the walkers were now back in familiar territory.



The Langdale Pikes from near Elterwater. The day's destination, The Old Dungeon Ghyll, is at the base of the peak on the left hand side.

Whilst resting on a farm track a bus drove past containing the couple from Lancashire who we had met on the first day - had a disaster befallen them or were they simply cheating bastards? We were to find out later that night. We reached the Sticklebarn pub and now had just under a mile to go. Rather than follow the road to the Old Dungeon Ghyll the route decided to skirt the side of the Langdale Pikes and then drop down directly behind the old hotel itself.

This final climb proved to be a sweaty little affair and for many was not expected, or wanted, so late in the day.



The final climb over to the Old Dungeon Ghyll.

We finally reached the ODG and beer! We perched ourselves on the benches outside the pub and enjoyed a few pints of real ale before retiring to our rooms and taking a shower.



Ken's vicious fart hadn't gone down as well as he'd liked.


On returning to the benches we ordered yet another monstrous meal. We had eaten just under a half a ton between us in just under 3 days and were beginning to worry about the effect the weight gain would have on the biggest ascent of the walk - the Stake Pass. This climb was the crux of the following day.

A professional group of walkers would have prepared sensibly for the following day - the longest walk of the route which just happened to contain the biggest ascent. However, we continued to drink and eat like soldiers returning from the first world war. The Cumberland sausages were the size of an Ulverston sewer sausage with the real ale the perfect accompaniment.



Another light snack with mineral water.


We met the couple from Lancashire who we had seen on the bus earlier in the day. Apparently 'she' had been suffering from a migraine and couldn't walk. They were planning to resume the walk the following day. We assumed that this curtailed any 'night time' action for her bedraggled partner - the same could not be said of Gordon and Jane...



Gordon and Jane's four poster had pressed all the 'right buttons' so a spot of amateur erotic photography ensued. Jane wouldn't take her socks off though.



Sweet dreams or dirty thoughts?


Vixy Hood and Dixy Wooolllaccccoott joined us for the evening (eventually) and a fine time was had by all. We eventually found our beds again and retired to prepare for tomorrows 'biggie'.

DAY 3 - Langdale to Keswick

After lightening our load yet again we were ready for the week's biggest challenge - the 18 miles to Keswick and the ascent of Stake Pass. No injuries apart from the odd small blister had been recorded as the first two days had been relatively easy compared to the West Highland Way - this however was about to change.

As could be expected, bearing in mind the heat and the fact that this was the toughest walk of the week, we awoke to what seemed to be the warmest day so far. Water bottles were filled and off we went along the flat valley floor of Mickleden. Macca decided to wear a nice normal white t-shirt and give the hideous green monstrosity of the previous day a rest.



Ready for the off - Stake Pass awaits!



Striding purposefully along Mickleden.


We eventually reached the foot of the pass and topped up on fluids. A 1300ft climb separated us from Langstrath and a relatively easy walk into Keswick. Off we went....



At the base of Stake Pass - ready, steady, go....


Without Terry in tow we reached the summit of Stake Pass in a relatively quick time. The weather remained fine and warm and provided a perfect opportunity for photos of Mickleden, the Langdale Pikes and sweating bodies:



'Sweating Bodies' by Nick Barber.



'F****d' by Dave McNeaney.



'F*****g f*****d' by Sean Bond


We finally hit the summit of Stake Pass, where drinkies were enjoyed by all, then over the moraines that are scattered over the summit to the lip of the drop down to Langstrath. Now the drop into Langstrath is steeper than the climb from Mickleden. The team split as faster walkers descended at pace whilst the others took their time to avert knee injuries.

Nick Barber reached the valley floor a whole day ahead of everybody else - we believe he spent the night under a bridge. The rest of the team finally descended into Langstrath. We rested by Nick's bridge and looked forward to the easy walk along the flat valley floor. Dave had sweat so much that his white t-shirt was now the same colour as the shirt he had worn on the previous day.



The descent to Langstrath from the summit of Stake Pass.



Neil's timer photography is now reaching expert level. This shot was taken on what is now known as 'Barber's Bridge'


We had walked approximately a mile along the valley when one of the team spotted what looked like a large rodent skipping about on the rocks ahead. Its head constantly appearing and disappearing out of view. We had come across the 'Ratboy'.

The route followed the main valley path and swept to the northwest to reach Stonethwaite. The walk to Stonethwaite seemed to last forever as the combination of the rocky path and static scenery took its toll. On reaching Stonethwaite sandwiches and drinks were enjoyed by all at the Langstrath Country Inn. Time to go - we kicked a couple of rabbits, and regrouped.

Interestingly Gordon took no more photographs during the walk. Gordon's minute by minute photographic account of the West Highland Way was now folklore. Had he lost interest or simply ran out of memory after his and Jane's night of 'experimentation' in Langdale? We were only halfway towards Keswick - Borrowdale and Derwent Water were next.

We followed the route into the tree filled chasm of Borrowdale where the paths were easy to follow and the going good. However, Mike was beginning to suffer from knee problems after the descent from Stake Pass and was beginning to slow. Alison lent Mike her walking poles but they did little to alleviate the pain. We still had 7 miles to go before we reached Keswick.



Waiting for Mike in the Borrowdale Woods.


We had reached the shores of Derwent Water where Skiddaw loomed in the distance and Keswick could be glimpsed over the lake. Mike was now suffering quite badly but he had a sneaky escape route already planned. We reached the boating launch which offered Mike a chance to return directly to Keswick.

The boots were deemed to be the problem so Mike took the launch in order to buy some walking shoes in Keswick which would hopefully give him the chance to complete the rest of the walk. The scenes that followed were reminiscent of those in the film, The Vikings. - you know, the scene where Kirk Douglas is buried on the burning boat and cast away, horns wailing in the cold Norwegian night with the flickering flames lighting up the dank, dark, sky.

Children cried as Mike disappeared into the distance whilst we remained motionless and began to think about what pubs we would visit later that night.



Skiddaw from the shores of Derwent Water.


Suddenly we were faced with the possibility of somebody not completing the walk - had the descent from Stake Pass taken its toll? Mike was just like Kirk Douglas - apart from not having dimples, having different coloured hair and not being American. Interestingly though Kirk Douglas has always expressed an interest in databases.



'Dear Rat god - please make sure Mike can find a cheapish pair of walking shoes, hopefully less than £30, and can continue with the walk'


The route rounded the lake and ended up in Keswick. A busy night was planned - Ratboy and Lindsey + Vixy and Dixy were staying in Keswick so a curry had been booked for all 14 folk. It had been the hardest day so far so there was only one thing to do... ...blow our tits off with Britain's hottest curry.



Dave about to tackle the final mouthful of a rather tepid vindaloo.


After a few beers around town we headed for the Lakeland Spice curry house. Being a team of regular curry eaters we ordered the usual fodder - madras\vindaloo etc and settled down for a pleasant evening of intelligent conversation and lively banter. Unfortunately the immense heat of the curry meant that any conversation had liberal sprinklings of 'f**k me', 'jesus wept', 'strike a f*****g light', 'stroll on' and 'oh my god'.

Tears flowed more than the beer and Macca's 'cross' t-shirt (another gem) looked like it was being worn specially to pray for his stomach. The Keswick sewers were next on the list for the ultimate Cumbria Way test. After a few hours the heat of the curry simmered down to something similar to the back end of a Tornado bomber.

We all ploughed into the Oddfellows Arms for, you guessed it, more beer. The week was following the same old course - lashings of beer and food. One thing had changed though - the weather, and as the night progressed the rain came in. We said our goodbyes to Ratboy, Lindsey, Vixy and Dixy and prepared for the following day.

DAY 4 - Keswick to Caldbeck

We awoke to grey skies and rain. The breakfast room in the Queen's Hotel had a glass roof which seemed to exaggerate the amount of falling rain. For the first time we had to wear our waterproofs. In 9 days of walking in Scotland and Cumbria we had yet to take our waterproofs out of our rucsacs. It was payback time.

Mike had purchased his walking shoes but they had cost around £80 which proves that there is no 'Rat god'. We purchased sandwiches from the local butty bar and started our walk out of Keswick in the rain. The conditions worsened as we climbed up the slopes of Latrigg.

The rain was getting heavier and the temperature seemed to be rising. We reached the main path junction on the side of Skiddaw and followed the path round to Lonscale Fell. On rounding the side of the final spur on Lonscale Fell we hit the full force of the wind and rain - it was getting wetter and windier with each step.

(Please note that no photography is available from this day so the author has kindly provided artistic impressions of the day's events)

As the team progressed along the path that skirts the fell the first disaster of the day occurred. Ken stopped to relieve himself not realising that only yards away, and just around the corner, two women (who we had seen and chatted to throughout the week) were rapidly approaching. Just as they were about to set eyes on Kens morning delivery he tucked away and walked on - blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.



Artist's impression of Ken's close escape.


On we plodded. The rain continued to fall and the paths continued to get wetter. On reaching Skiddaw House we were faced with a choice - the fell route to the north or the western alternative. Due to the weather and the fact that Mike could do without the ups and downs of the fell route we chose the latter.

And what a piss poor decision that was!

We followed the path over the moor before dropping to Whitewater Dash waterfall. This didn't quite have the required scenic effect on the walkers as we all had a small waterfall running between our buttocks. We needed to stop for butties but there was one significant problem - there was no shelter anywhere. Not a bit.

We descended further until the rain appeared to ease (I believe this was psychological) and then ate our lunch standing up on the path. This provided us with a droplet of enthusiasm in readiness for the next section of the walk. Shortly after setting off we stood in the rain again as a friendly Cumbrian farmer felt inclined to chat. The path then followed a rather pointless route over fields, into a muddy vale, through a fir forest, up a steep bank and then down and over a field.

This eventually led us directly to the same road we had left approximately an hour earlier. Ken's women had decided to keep on the road which seemed a very sensible choice - but we could be smug in the fact that they hadn't walked the official route. The road continued for a few miles and undulated just enough to piss people off.

The rain was still coming down in buckets and Caldbeck didn't seem to be getting any closer. We continued over the Uldale Moors and then onto a section of the walk which required careful route finding. Deviously devilish paths linked farms and homes. In some cases the paths were difficult to see so it was decided that the author and navigation expert within the team take over the map reading task. And what a piss poor decision that was!

The team just wanted to get to Caldbeck and get out of the now soaking waterproofs so with Caldbeck being only 2 miles away what could possibly go wrong? I followed the book and map passing Branthwaite, Fell Side and Potts Gill farms. I then successfully led the team to Nether Row farm where we could follow the road north into Caldbeck, to the bar, to the restaurant, to warm clothes, showers, baths and all things 21st century.

That would have been the plan if it wasn't for a bin. Outside what I thought was Nether Row farm was a bin. The bin was marked 'Potts Gill'. Hang on methinks - I've already walked past Potts Gill? Well as you know bins never lie so I followed the route from the Potts Gill to Nether Row.



As we walked towards what I thought was Nether Row it became clear that we were walking away from Caldbeck which could be seen to our left in the valley below. There had been hardly any Cumbria Way signs throughout the day so there was no point in looking for one now.

Enough was enough - Macca was officially requested to provide a grid reference. A grid reference was provided and I realised that we were heading for Hesket Newmarket. The news that we were off route was met with tears of joy and laughter. It was a real bonding session - the sort of bonding session where each of the walkers wanted a session bonding me to a barbed wire fence. Then it dawned on me.

I had been at Nether Row farm as first thought but the bin from Potts Gill was obviously left by the road to be collected by refuse wagons. There was no public road up to Potts Gill and the refuse wagon probably couldn't get up there anyway. My efforts to walk in a north-easterly direction to find Nether Row were pointless as it had already been passed and we were now walking away from it.

I informed the team of this discovery hoping that they would all reply with comments such as 'an obvious mistake', 'that was a real puzzler' and 'thank god you noticed that - I wouldn't have had the brains to have worked that one out'. Nobody did - the bin was laughing at me. I wanted to walk back to Nether Row farm and tip that bastard thing over. One day I will. Anyway, the extra mile had really perked everyone's spirits up. We marched into Caldbeck expecting a brass band, fireworks and hugs and kisses from the locals. It didn't happen.

We found the Oddfellows Arms, got the keys to our rooms and began to peel our waterproofs off. We asked the landlord to turn the heating on in a vain attempt to dry whatever was required for the following day and layered our soaking clothes over anything that could support them. The day had been a 18 mile shocker but the Oddfellows Arms was excellent. Lovely rooms, great beer and fantastic food. The portions were immense - just what was needed.

Mike had successfully completed the day and the never ending rain meant that nobody knew what t-shirt Macca was wearing. Every cloud has a silver lining they say - today every cloud contained bucketfulls of rain! Next morning we met for breakfast, ate another 4lbs of Cumberland sausage and prepared for the final day - a walk by the banks of the Caldew to the historic city of Carlisle and journeys end.

DAY 5 - Caldbeck to Carlisle

The weather was better than the day before. It couldn't have been any worse. It was still quite grey and overcast however so there was always the chance of rain. Ken took a group photo outside the Oddfellows Arms and off we went.



09:30 final day - Still quite damp but ready to go. Neil is actually doing his 13th shit of the week and Alison can be seen getting one of those 'You love it really' hugs. She's replying with one of those 'It's Rome for me next year' smiles.


We were 15 miles from Carlisle. Gentle terrain was the order of the day with no difficulties.

The walk passed through woods and bracken that were still soaking from the previous day's rain but this was the final day - we could get as wet as we liked. The cameras were back on show as the weather improved. However there wasn't a great deal to photograph as the generally arable scenery had little to show in terms of visual interest.

Every stile seemed to lead into a field that looked just like the last one - river to the right, cows to the left. Apart from one field.

Sean and Neil reached a stile which led into a field containing 10-15 bullocks. As Neil climbed the stile they began to walk away and a sense of relief came over us. A cow on the opposite side of the river then made a commotion and the bullocks ran straight onto our route - this didn't look good.

The remaining team members had appeared and so we deliberated over the best course of action. The bullocks looked rather frisky and there didn't appear to be an easy escape route other than jumping over barbed wire and landing in the River Caldew. After much discussion Neil and Mike decided to take the bullocks on.

We will never know if the deciding factor behind this show of bravery was that Mike didn't fancy the longish walk around the surrounding fields or that Neil was prepared to show the bullocks who's the boss? Mike and Neil set off through the field whereas the rest of the team walked uphill to find another route.



Neil in action at this year's Calgary Stampede.


The alternative bullock free route turned out to be a bit of a pain. Long wet grass led to taut high barbed wire fences which were difficult to climb. Gordon and Jane's exploits in Langdale a few nights earlier had obviously left them feeling quite supple and agile so they negotiated the fences in fine style.

Ann's rusty old legs though simply weren't up to it. Her dreams of a bit of 'gash action' in Cumbria came true but not in the way she expected - her waterproof bottoms were split as she traversed the fence. The route down to Neil and Mike was through a field of waist height barley.

Our boots and legs were covered in muesli. Neil spent a few minutes mocking the rest of the teams lack of bravery (probably a few hours actually) before we set off on our way. Not far to go now.



A field full of cows. These were nice cows.


We finally reached a small village called Bridge End where a pub provided the opportunity to purchase a snack and drink. After the short stop we followed the Cumbria Way - to a dead end. The map was pants and the guide was pants. Where did the Cumbria Way go? We decided to follow a route in a field behind a row of houses and then climb over the fence at the opposite end - this wasn't the Cumbria Way.

The climb did however give Ann another chance to show her gash.



The awkward fence. What's Ken staring at?


The route began to deteriorate as we headed towards Dalston. The path followed the river wherever it could but factories were ever present in the view to our left and they didn't make the walk any more exciting.



The path in Dalton. Only a few miles to go.


On reaching the outskirts of Carlisle there was little in the way of scenic value. The city centre was eventually reached with the gasworks and other industrial buildings looming into view - the likes of Coniston, Langdale and Keswick seemed a long way away.



The welcoming party in Carlisle.


Compared to the West Highland Way the finale was proving to be a bit of a let down. Whereas Ben Nevis loomed large to mark the end of the West Highland Way with Fort William almost providing a near holiday destination feel, Carlisle just didn't 'have it'. It was like walking into Shelton.

We arrived in the 'real' city centre and shops and offices appeared. It was late on Friday afternoon but the centre was busy with shoppers and ten rather scruffy walkers. The next, and final task, was to find the official end of the Cumbria Way. We asked locals - they had no idea. Nothing mentioned in the official guide or map. Where was it?

The castle looked the likely point so we marched through the city centre to the castle itself. The castle guide knew nothing about the Cumbria Way never mind the official end so Sean and Nick walked around the castle perimeter looking for the holy grail - maybe it had been washed away in the recent floods? In the meantime Macca had rung the tourist office and had received some good news - they haven't yet agreed on a location for the official Cumbria Way endpoint marker.

Fantastic! We had a picture taken outside the castle - this was to be our official end.



The official unofficial end of the Cumbria Way.


We walked to the hotel and checked in. The final day had been something of a disappointment both in terms of the scenery and the finale. We couldn't help but feel that the walk had deteriorated after Keswick - maybe it was the weather? maybe the food was weighing us down?

Considering we had new folk on board the pace of the walk was quite surprising. There were very few injuries to speak of and nobody appeared to have suffered from any form of constipation. We scooted around for a suitable eating place - again. Food had been a major part of the walk in that we seemed to have major portions wherever we went.

An Italian restaurant was found and we settled down to lashings of red wine and lager. Another awful Macca shirt was on show but it was job done - all he had to do was collect his charity money. An enjoyable night was enjoyed by all. A few more bars then back to the hotel.WHO'S ON FOR NEXT YEAR AND WHERE SHALL WE GO?



Nice one Macca - nice one.



I think Al and Ken are phished?



Neil showing off more of his cowboy skills.



We scrubbed up quite well considering.



The Italian - The End.


Below is a table displaying the full (known) list of injuries experienced on the walk. Please update me with any errors or omissions.
Walker Blisters Knee Midge Bites Lurve Bites Achilles Bizarre Ankle Rub Food Overdose Ale Overdose
Sean X X
Alison X X
Ken X
Mike X X X X
Neil X X
Nick X X
Gordon X X X
Ann X
Macca X X X
Jane X X

Macca's Charity Cuttings

Macca walked the Cumbria Way for charity and raised £1500. Macca also worked out his mile per gallon (relating to ale). This calculation was based on walking 77.5 miles and drinking 37 pints of beer which resulted in an astonishing 16.75 miles per gallon.

As part of the fundraising effort he appeared in both the Leek Post and Times and Your Leek Paper: These are the articles:









Neil being Neil

A collection of the best of Neil Scott...















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