Bradgate Park – A Day of Many Walks
When I took the bus to Bradgate Park, I found myself being dropped off a little ways outside the village of Cropston and I having to walk around a huge reservoir of water to get to one of the park entrances. (The Tourist centre of the park is way across the water.)
The jaunt was most enjoyable along the road/reservoir as I had a chance to look at the countryside, admire horses grazing in a meadow, and examine flowers along the way.
Once I finished my touring, I continued my walk through the park to the other end, having been told that I would come out at a little village where I could catch a bus or taxi to take me back into Leicester. By this time, my feet were achingly squished and my legs were cramping up, but I persevered (no other choice), limping to a bus stop, which I found out was for the #120 and which I could have taken in the first place, saving myself more than half the walk I’d done.
Regardless, I made it back into Leicester, but still had to get back to my accommodations. The long and the short of this was that, although a little old couple pointed me in the right direction, I knew it wasn’t exactly how I’d come in order to find the Internet Café, so I tried my own method. This didn’t work and I walked quite a long way in the wrong direction (having become turned around in a shopping mall the helpful woman from the morning had led me through).
After asking general directions to the road I needed, I limped into the Internet shop eventually, and sat there for a bit until they closed. I was the last one out; following a young woman who suggested a couple of places where I might like to eat supper. It was 8 pm by this time, so I thought I might as well grab a bite before heading back to my lodging. Maureen guided me to a restaurant, which served spicy food, and decided to join me. She was from Jamaica so she liked her food hot. I could have stood it toned down a bit, but didn’t complain, though it was the hottest salad dressing I’ve ever tasted. Thanks heavens the chicken I’d ordered to go with it was the mild kind. The restaurant, Nando’s, was supposed to be Portuguese, but I have to say I never tasted food like that when I was in Portugal.
I left Maureen to wait for her husband to get off work, saying I was going to catch a cab back, because I couldn’t walk another step. However, while I wandered up the street looking for a taxi, I realized I wasn’t far from the train station and I knew my way home….still a few blocks away, but silly to take a cab. When I arrived ‘home,’ I crawled up the stairs, ditched my shoes (which I swore I would replace at the earliest opportunity), undressed and staggered into bed almost immediately. It was almost 10 pm by then—and I slept soundly until my alarm went off early the next morning in time for me to get up and catch my bus to Haworth.
I was up bright and early and ready for breakfast by the time they began to serve at 7:15 am, however, I had to hurry along the cook as my taxi was coming ten minutes later. I gobbled down some scrambled eggs and toast, washing it down with orange juice, still chomping when my ride arrived.
