Lincoln to Pontefract

Another challenging start, after the media scrum and the Morning Prayer. Decided to walk down Steep Hill to the Bus Station – a fine morning to do it, but cobbly and, well, very steep. Caught the bus to Gainsborough with other pensioners. 

Noticeable how many people are talking about politics this morning. Same with the noisy birthday girls back at the Prince of Wales.

But Doreen a couple of seats back keeps up a much more typical flow – she's been visiting a forgetful friend : “and do you know she'd given me the custard tarts I'd been out to fetch her ...”
Along the A57. Gainsborough 17 miles. Sheffield only 44. 
Odder – the name of a village. Along the canal to Saxilby. familiar from last year's journey. Industry gives way to narrowboats, one of them named “The Kids' Inheritance”. The Saxilby Drama Circle are advertising a Ray Cooney farce in the Village Hall. Vapour plumes from cooling towers coalesce and merge with the clouds. These great towers will be a constant companion on the horizon today.

Sturton by Stow. Willingham, twinned with Moyenneville – just your average French town, I guess [in Picardy, apparently]. As we join the A156 into Gainsborough from the Willingham Road. 
On the 96 to Doncaster via Retford, back past Hers and Sirs [Unisex Salon] onto the A620, over the Trent and away. Goole. Misterton works – and the Social Club – boarded up, but the Baptist Church, the Board School and Albion Terrace all survive. Distant views to the north – cooling towers again – back past Fox Covert Lane to the A631, Gringley on the  Hill. Cross Hill, with a weathered cross looking out over the valley – Misson and Misterton Cars - as it has done for centuries. 
On Clayworth Wharf, the Retford and Worksop Boat Club, and the Boat Inn. The King's Arms in Clarborough boasts not a crest, but some very mean looking Crusaders.

And into Retford to change buses. Radio 2 in the bus station conveniences. Turns out to be the same bus and driver. “You should've stayed on … Donny, are you ?”. Yes indeed, on the way to Doncaster now, listening to the woman behind me whose husband, now recovering from “a little do” in hospital, works on the crossing gates at Scrooby. Scrooby, alas, invisible from the bus, which stops briefly at the Pilgrim Fathers [Scrooby a hotbed of religious dissent in 1620, it appears] on the Great North Road. Would have had time to get off for an hour to explore Low Road, as it happens …
Bawtry looks much more promising, with the Crow Hotel presiding over a wide market place. Kings Wood, with bluebells. Overcast as we pass the Doncaster racecourse. The town's oldest pub, The Salutation on South Parade with its galleries, the Doncaster High School for Girls now boarded up.
And straight onto the 84 to Hatfield [mentioned in the Sovereign chapter I read yesterday]. Past the Tower Chippy – choice of peas, curry sauce, gravy or beans with your cod and chips. £2.99. Brutal 60s parades, now mostly boarded up.
Out into the villages to the north, with some more names to join Boothby Graffoe. Kirk Sandall [wasn't he in those 50s biblical epics?] and Barnby Dun – a smile, a song and a banjo …
Stainforth, with its speed cushions, and Sheep Dip Lane.
Hatfield well worth the detour – just beyond the industrial reach of Doncaster,  with its Nettos, its metal shuttered pizza places, “pop, sweets, crisps”. 

The lovely church of St Lawrence – closed, alas – and the Ingram Arms facing the Blue Bell.
Back on the bus, joined by five walkers walking – off home on the  84 after the destination pub lunch.
In Frenchgate bus station, scalded my hand on Millie's tea, and joined the huge queue for the 409 to Pontefract. Space at a premium, so squeezed in beside a little old lady with a sturdy shopping trolley, which I looked after so that I could sit on the outside. And that's how we got talking …


And into North Yorkshire, Pontefract 6 miles. Kirk Smeaton, under the A1, past Dark Lane, The Elephant, the Edward VII Memorial Wing to arrive in Pontefract at 4.30.
Giving me time to wander a little – Buttermarket – organ music from St Giles – before phoning The Tower. He drove straight in to collect me, checked me in, and hurried off, to prepare for his trip to Croatia.
Very pleasant room, stylish décor and working wifi !  But the proprietor was a little  optimistic about the eating opportunities.

Pizza from a takeaway, with wine from Tesco …