I've had something on my mind recently which i need to get out of my system. When in a restaurant, i dont want to be asked what i want to drink before i sit down, what i want to eat before i've seen the menu and passed the cheque before i've started eating. I want the waitress to be cute but slow, i want to say 'dont worry no rush, i want to take as long as i like and drink as many coffee refills as i can to make up for the tip they expect for rushing me. Whilst im being british and moaning, why do they always say 'table for one then?' so everyone knows im billy-no-mates? Stop picking on freaky hiker boy!

I decided id probably had too much of nancy's dark roast coffee and hit the road. Springfield was a pretty ok town apart from the ghost-town centre, all the old industrial highrises left abandoned. It did still have a working railroad straight through the centre which was surprisingly fun to watch in a non-geeky kind of way. Route/rawt 40 was now a straight quiet backroad, the first 8 miles of which was just house after ruddy house. By the time it turned rural i was done for the day. I planned on walking another 6 more miles but being my own boss i wasn't going to be dictated to by a map.