DAY 263 - CHATEAU THIERRY TO LE FERTE SOUS JOUARRE: 18.3 MILES (36,600 STEPS)

Tuesday 10 January, 2012

18.3 miles (Total: 2521.3 miles)– 36,600 steps (Total: 5,710,801 steps)

Good old Hotel Hexagone had CNN on the TV, so I watched the analysis of the New Hampshire Primary. Elections are a wonderful thing—I have been a candidate in twelve of them and there is nothing like the excitement of a campaign, the team effort in the campaign and the inevitable ups and downs. Then getting virtually instant feedback from the Ballot Box as to how well you have done in getting your messages across.

I have contested twelve elections and only won one (Langbaurgh, 1992) which just shows that the electorate do have impeccable judgement and I do give a very good concession speech. I am rather hoping that soon I will be contesting elections for the House of Lords, even though past performance would suggest that I would have little or no chance of chance of being elected to it.

True, I have had more success in running elections for others than I have in running myself; this is because I am not a leader, I am a follower, and can summon much greater effort, insight and intuition when campaigning for someone (e.g. David Cameron) or something (e.g. Olympic Truce) whom/which I truly believe in.

“Democracy,” in the words of Winston Churchill, “Is the worst form of government apart from all others that have been tried.” The ingenious Greek idea that those required to abide by the law should have a say in deciding whom should make it, is up there along with: the wheel, fire, the worldwide web and sliced bread as the greatest of all human discoveries.

The winning candidate is more often the one who taps into a national mood or desire. In the case of Mitt Romney, this is his business background and a belief that a successful businessperson can turn around an unsuccessful economy. This is his pitch and his team need to hammer it for all they have got. I must confess that if I was asked to join one of the presidential campaigns, then it would be for Barack Obama, even though my political instincts probably lie on the other side of the isle.

I think Barack Obama has more going for him, just the fact that an African American called Barack Obama can be elected president of the United States, says something good about the American people and something great about him. This was confirmed, in my view, when he refused to release pictures of the assassinated Osama bin Laden, even though it would have been massively in his political interests to do so.

I recall an anecdote told by Kelvin McKenzie, former editor of The Sun, about a dinner conversation with Lord Ree Mogg, distinguished columnist of The Times, and Rupert Murdoch, Proprietor. Lord Rees Mogg is attributed to have lamented that he had yet to meet a prime minister with a ‘First Class brain’, to which Murdoch is said to have replied, as only a proprietor would dare, “You’re not so bloody smart yourself ‘Moggy’.” When I heard it, I thought wouldn’t it be wonderful to be governed over by someone who had a ‘first class heart’ and when I see Barack Obama, like Ronald Regan, I think that America may have found one and will not easily want to let it go.

Added to this, negative campaigning works: we don’t like to talk about it, but if someone says 99 nice things about a candidate and one bad, we will remember the one bad. This is human nature. In politics we do well to follow the biblical injunction to be ‘wise as serpents and gentle as doves.’ Mitt Romney is the Republican front runner because his political adverts destroyed Newt Gingrich and he is now trying to return the compliment. Obama needs to lay into the Republican fiscal record under ‘W’ and the big business record under ‘Wall Street’ in contributing to the recession. I am sure it will be a close race, it always is, but I think I would be happier as a Democrat strategist in the West Wing of the White House right now, than as a Republican strategist in New Hampshire.

One final thought on political elections and leadership: It is in the nature of modern politics that candidates promise to pass new laws to change the country for the better. I am not sure about this. At Westminster we have been passing at least twenty to forty laws a year for over hour hundred years. Law making reached a new peak under the Blair years when new laws and regulations were coming into force at a rate of 3000+ a year. Surely, if it ain’t on the Statute Book by now, is it really necessary?

If I could put a plaque on the prime minister’s desk in Downing Street then it would probably read: ‘Leadership is not about the legislation, it is about inspiration.’ By all means scrap laws, but don’t make more, as they invariably cost more and deliver less than planned. Moreover, emphasising laws suggest that our success or failure lies in rules rather than in how well you play the game – just ask Thierry Henry what consideration he gave to the finer points of Section 118 (iiiv) of The Rules of Association Football when he slotted his comeback winner past the Leeds goalkeeper last night.

I have had the great privilege of knowing well a number of successful entrepreneurs’ and I can’t think of a single one who contemplated the marginal tax rate or the latest raft of regulations from Brussels before setting up. Such was their determination to succeed, they found a way through and when they encountered a locked door they didn’t waste time whinging, they went around the side to look for an open window and usually found one.

Leadership is the judgements you make and the confidence you inspire. David Cameron could give up legislating from now until polling day and he would probably be re-elected by a landslide because he is by far the best all round leader we have; he has demonstrated great judgement tested under fire; he has built a great team around him whom he trusts to do their jobs and above all, he inspires confidence nationally and internationally.

The people of Britain and the United States have chosen well and whatever the vagaries of snap shot, mid-term approval ratings, the electorate will respect that it is inspiration rather than legislation which counts. Every time: except perhaps for those running for president of the Law Society.

Oh yes; and I walked 18.3 miles, not much happened. I found a reasonable priced hotel with wi-fi, a buffet breakfast, close to a Macdonalds, and a bed was thrown in as a bonus.

DAY 262 - EPERNAY TO CHATEAU THIERRY: 33.9 MILES (67,800 STEPS)

Monday 9 January, 2012

33.9 miles (Total: 2502.9 miles)– 67,800 steps (Total: 5,350,201 steps)

 I knew this was going to be a tough day as I couldn’t find any accommodation on the Internet between Epernay and Chateau Thierry, which was 30 miles away. I decided to start early, before 8am, in order to give myself the maximum number of options. Plan (a) was to find an unlisted Auberge or bar, which would put me up around Dormans. I arrived in Dormans just before lunchtime and found a restaurant with rooms, but whilst tucking into some lunch and studying the maps, I wondered whether I was capable of more and be able to then reward myself with a day off. It proved not to be a smart decision, but it was a decision nonetheless.

The walking route involved trekking across hills between Courthiezy and Crezancy and the chance to escape the main roads was a welcome one. As I left the road and took the route called ‘Rue Napoleon’, I should have reflected further – the last time I took one of his roads it was over the Alps and I ended up with a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder. Still, I thought, I may have got him wrong and should give him a second chance, much as the Allies did on his return from exile in Elba. It didn’t quite result in a Waterloo, but it was a close run thing. To coin a phrase, ‘I saw two paths diverged in a wood. I took the path least travelled by and it made all the difference”. Unlike life, in walking there is wisdom in taking the well worn path, even better if it has paving slabs and blumming big streetlights over it.

Eventually, I arrived in Celles les Conde, about six miles south of where I had hoped to emerge from the woods. I walked up into Conde en Brie and found a pharmacy – without a doubt the best place to get any advice or guidance wherever you are. There is something about pharmacists that instinctively makes them want to help, and this is coupled with the helpful fact that they are often the only shops open. It was 6pm, it was dark, and I had already walked 22 miles and was shattered. I wanted a place to sleep. There were none. It was Monday and typically France was closed. Trying to be as helpful as they could, the only option they could think of in absence of any transport links to Chateau Thierry was to try and thumb a lift. What would you do? Answer, start walking …

I walked a further 4 miles to Crezancy where I was sure there would be accommodation, although the pharmacist had said there wasn’t. It was a major town at an important junction, there must be rooms to let, if not a full blown hotel. I got there, went into a bar which looked as if it had room upstairs, ordered a drink in an attempt to work my way in before popping the question, but the answer was “non” with no alternatives offered other than to walk to Chateau Thierry another 7.5 miles away. What would you do? Answer, keep walking …

I walked along the D1003 which was quieter now it was 7pm and the weather was quite mild. I consoled myself that there may be hotels a few miles before Chateau Thierry and that I will have certainly earned a day off by arriving ahead of schedule, considering that I had been timetabled to stop in Dormans.

After two and a half of the longest hours I have had on the walk so far, I arrived at the far outskirts of Chateau Thierry and waited for the Hotel Campenille and Hotel Ibis neon signs to come into view. No chance. This was a day in which my metal was to be tested right down to the last atom of oxide. I walked past the station and took another wrong turn being lured on by a sign, which said there was a MacDonalds the other way; it was two miles ‘the other way’, but when I got there I was on the far side of town and was just so happy to be in the warmth with Internet access to search for a room.

It was 9:30pm and I didn’t want to waste time walking between possible places and so I went to book a room online. To my delight, stimulated by the Chicken McNuggets Happy Meal and Diet Coke, I came up with a cracking deal at Hotel Hexagone, okay it was the only deal, but God Bless Hotel Hexagone! I booked in (www.booking.com)and arrived just as they were shutting up for the night having not realised the late booking. They seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see them – technology and a recession, perfect partners for mutual satisfaction.

I had enough strength left for a shower, which is just as well as my nose bleeds, which had been a regular feature of the past week, came back with a vengeance. I didn’t have the strength to think about what I would do the next day, stay or walk on? I left that decision for another day, ‘choices’ had not been my strong point that day.

DAY 261 - REIMS TO EPERNAY: 19.5 MILES (39,000 STEPS)

Sunday 8 January, 2012

19.5 miles (Total: 2469 miles)– 39,000 steps (Total: 5,282,401 steps)

The next major stop between Reims and Paris was to be Chateau Thierry, but I was unable to locate any accommodation on the most direct route and so opted for safety with a 20km detour via Epernay. Without a phone and with the bad weather, I tend to be more cautious about getting stuck without shelter for the night – I know, ‘what a wimp’.

My departure from Reims did not go as smoothly as I had hoped it would because, in a move unsympathetic to sufferers of mild dyslexia, town planners had placed Rue Epernay next to Rue Esperney and I fell for the trap. The rest of the walk was actually quite pleasant and took me through the National Park of Montagne. France closes on a Sunday and heading out into the forest seemed to be quite a popular activity, although the presence of many groups of hunters would appear to make it a biz hazardous. It wasn’t immediately clear how they had designated which parts of the forest were for hunting and shooting and which were for walking and cycling.

A few times shots seemed to get a little close for comfort as groups of orange jacket clad hunters would emerge from the woods and shout something, which I presume was ‘have you seen a deer crossing here?’. I would plead ignorance and simply shout back ‘Anglais’, which just seemed to be greeted by a ‘boff, what would he know?’. Actually, although I have never been hunting or shooting, I am not enraged by it because I see it as part of the culture and history of the rural communities and as such, it is to be respected. I represented a partially rural constituency in Parliament and came to hold the farming and rural communities in very high regard for the way they carefully preserved a way of life and a countryside so that ‘Townies’ could flee the ugly urban sprawl and then write to their MP to complain about the cow muck on the roads. In the main, those who are enraged by hunting do not love the fox as much as they hate the middle class who hunts them.

Emerging from the forest, there was a spectacular site of endless vineyards belonging to Champagne producers. The vineyards are not fenced off and the ground is firm and chalky so I was able to pick my way down the hillside towards my destination of Epernay. As you emerge from the vineyards you come onto a road with more Champagne bars per square inch than Sloane Square. I guess that travelling from one end of the street to the other would be the ultimate posh pub crawl, but because it was a Sunday, it was naturally all closed. Perhaps with a hint of irony is this suburb of Epernay called Dizy. It remained a fact that I had not had a drop of Champagne having walked the entire length of the region. This is not being abstemious; it is just that, even in Champagne, the ‘local brew’ is still very expensive relative to the Cote du Rhone.

En passant as Del Boy says in ‘Only Fools and Horses’. In Ste Menehould, I came across a statue to Dom Pierre Perignon, who was the monk that discovered Champagne in the seventeenth century with the memorable phrase “see I am drinking the stars”. Now, could someone please explain to me why someone who has given so much to human happiness is not yet ‘St. Pierre’ – must mention that idea to Pope Benedict when I next see him, Pierre was a Benedictine monk after all. The beautification could lead to the naming of hundreds of churches in his honour, whilst church attendance in Chelsea & Kensington could double, or, at least bubble!

I arrive in Epernay in the final minutes of daylight and so was able to enjoy a whole evening in Hotel Ibis writing emails and blog entries, whilst drinking Diet Coke – it’s fun all the way out here …