Well, we did it - ten days, a fair few blisters and one sprained ankle in the process but we completed our trek from Liverpool to Hull covering the greater part of 200 miles in the process (there are semi-official mileages but they don't always quite match the conditions on the ground).

We set off from Liverpool in scorching sun and arrived in Hull looking like drowned rats.  Most of the journey was hot and sunny but the last three days reminded us what England in August is usually like.

I enjoyed the walk with its diverse scenery and range of walking surfaces.  From vast stretches of open countryside - and panoramic views from Woodhead Pass - to thatched cottages, to long stretches of canal tow path and a few delightful water treatment plants and industrial estates, we saw a microcosm of England.  We crossed and re-crosssed the M62 and M60 many times both over and under, and are now adept at crossing level crossings in rural areas where 100 mph trains clatter by every few minutes.  It was never dull and we developed some awful humour along the way which, perhaps thankfully, does not translate (though there is a small B&B in Padfield where a 'man' stays in one of the rooms so beware!).

We met some interesting people on the way - a few groups of cyclists doing the trip in 3-4 days (and had to give directions to one or two!), a Sustrans Ranger who told us where to get a good cup of tea cheaply - and who we met a day later at an RSPB place where we'd got one for free - a woman training to cycle the route alone, an ex-marine who we impressed with our efforts and a police officer who caused a traffic jam by stopping to read the notice pinned to my rucksack and then chatting to us.

It was a fun adventure and I am glad that we undertook it but of course it also had a more serious purpose - that of raising money for the charity Wellbeing of Women.  It looks as if we will between us raise about £1000 which is a superb response and a tribute to those we are remembering (Gillian & Rachel) and celebrating (Jean's sister who has survived ovarian cancer).  At times the walking was a slog - we were tired or our feet hurt, but at least we knew that there was a (positive) end ahead.  Even my sprained ankle is recovering well (just don't tell the medics I walked on it for a couple of days assuming it was just a simple twist!) and will soon be a memory.  For many women (and men for that matter) pain is a life long companion and diseases such as ovarian cancer do not simply go away with a bit of rest.  Traipsing through a field of sheep poo in driving rain it was good to recall just what this was all about and lend a bit of perspective to our discomfort.

On a couple of days I wound up walking in flip flops - not, I hasten to point out, the cause of the ankle injury which was sustained later.  After walking 10 - 15 miles my feet were FILTHY and reflecting on the story of the woman who washed Jesus' feet with her tears & hair took on a new level of meaning as I began to appreciate what his feet may have been like.  Far from a ceremonial nicety, foot washing after a long day of walking is a necessity, and I was very glad of the convenience of showers and baths in the B&B's where we stayed.

My final reflection on the whole journey was on its voluntary nature - there was no compulsion to go anywhere and only stubbornness to make me continue to the end.  I was free to choose what to take with me, knowing that at the end of the journey I would return to the security of home, not find myself a refugee in a hostile nation.  Each night I knew there would be a roof over my head and food to eat, clean sheets and hot water; at all times I was only a phone call from friends and family and received encouraging texts from a friend in Manchester.  During the same period, how many people worldwide have had to flee their homes with only what they can carry, not knowing if they will eat or where they might find shelter?  It's a sobering thought that what we do for fun or for a challenge is what other people do of necessity.

Now I am back in Dibley, have checked around 80 emails, opened a couple of dozen letters and dealt with 6 messages on my answer phone.  Normality returns all too quickly.  I am secretly (or not so secretly now) proud of what we achieved in the last two weeks and have enjoyed being away from routine, yet there is something actually quite reassuring about life picking up its familiar threads...

I have not yet decided what the next adventure will be - but I reckon the next time I go from Liverpool to Hull it will be via the M62/M60!