I collected Brian on the way through, and stopped to eat my sandwiches at his house, then we went to play with the traffic. I'd left home at just before ten, and was at Brian's just before one pm. I'd only got lost once as well, which is good for me - I was to make up for it later.

The M42 seemed not too bad, Friday traffic is always heavy on the motorways, and we got held up a few times. Then the M1 near Nottingham was stop go, mainly stop. However, we chatted as we waited for the bottleneck to clear itself. This was almost habit forming, because it happened several times.

Finally, we got to Beighton and I knew my way to the B&B, a lovely little place, clean and tidy and very reasonable. I'd stayed there last year. We unloaded my ancient Citroen and after a cuppa, I felt ready for anything - well a good sleep would have been nice, instead we got ready to go out and meet up with Maddy.

Anne, who'd arrived just before us, very generously offered to do the driving, and the wonderful woman she is, she did it all weekend, I...um, did the navigating. I know, déjá  vu, but you get a better class of lost when I'm giving directions.

Amazingly we found Maddy, and were on time although we had done a tour of Outer Mongolia on the way - well Beighton to Sheffield was too easy for an experienced navigator like me. We arrived as a thunderstorm happened and it peed down - our hostelry, can't remember the name, the Ratted Newt, or something similar did a reasonable repast and we chatted the rest of the evening. I was drunk on good conversation or maybe it was something in the diet Cokes or latte coffee.

With Anne's excellent chauffering we eventually got back to our B&B via my detour around Aberdeen. Fortunately she enjoys driving and is infinitely better at it than I am at navigating. I did my episode of Bike and retired to bed about 1.00am.

The noise of traffic awoke me at five and I stayed that way for the next hour, whereupon I gave up and got my breakfast. Then it was get ready for the morning's expedition to find Sheffield - it's not exactly lost, and at approximately 13 miles across is a good sized target, but with my navigating skills we managed to miss it, well the bit we wanted, about a square yard on the A61 where Maddy was standing. We did get there, this time via Chesterfield and we were on time.

For the rest of the day, Maddy did the guidework and we didn't get lost once. We went to Gardom's edge and saw the genuine copy of the cup and ring markings as per the Gaby book 'Visitors'. We had some readings and walked about. The wind was unkind and the odd little shower threatened, but we intrepid travellers ignored the elements and moved on threading our way through wiggling roads on an undulating landscape that is the Peak District, a national park of outstanding peakiness or something. (only joking Geoff).

At Arbour Low, in the Arctic circle, low means a hill, some of which, were they in Dorset would probably be considered mountains. Anyway, after being mugged by a farmer's wife who rides a road bike - so can't be all bad - we met with Geoff, whose self description was very self deprecating. We almost instantly recognised him - he was the only cyclist at the farm, well complete with bike and lycras. He recognised me from mine - statuesque and goddesslike - well if I don't blow it, I might as well sell the trumpet. Actually, I told him to look out for a mouthy redhead - being a man of amazing perceptiveness, he recognised me.

We trekked up the path to a mound, moving away very quickly as a bus load of assorted geriatrics advanced towards us. We went to look at the henge monument and stone circle which make up Arbor Low. Just as Maddy started a reading, the gods of the met office decided to see if the wind or the rain could get us to quit more quickly. It was a draw, windswept and soaking we retired to a byre (a barn for cows)and did the reading there, plus some chatter with Geoff about the area and cycling.

The rain stopped and waited for us to walk towards the car before soaking us again, the temperature had dropped and I was feeling cold. It was therefore rather good that after saying Au revoir (a traditional Derbyshire farewell) to Geoff, who pedalled off into the rain, we transferred to the local pub, the Newted Rat or something similar. The home cooked ham and eggs with chips went down a treat.

We discovered now that the weather saw us as targets for rain showers of the heavy variety. Each time we left the car or a building, it would wait until we were equidistant from any cover and precipitate all over us. So when we left the pub, it was no surprise to feel moisture in the air, in the form of big globs of rain.

It did stop long enough for us to have a quick look around Lady Bower reservoir (as opposed to au revoir - see you get culture here, too.)A huge valley flooded with a big dam used by the Dam Busters (RAF squadron) for practice flights before attacking the German dams on the river Ruhr - they did do it while we weren't friends with the Germans, probably after they beat us in the World Cup again.

We had more readings before heading towards Hathersage ( I think) and a walk in the country before the wet stuff chased us back to the car and we had some more readings from Mad until she got so dry in the throat department, we had to adjourn to another pub for dinner. The lasagne was okay, so was the coffee.

Back to the car, and we sat in the pub car park looking at the view - more rain - until they let me read my story ( and I gave them the car keys back). At least one of stayed awake - only because I was actually talking, before we gave up and went back to Sheffield and via Edinburgh, Beighton. I did some more Bike, got to bed after 1.00am and awoke the next day at six.

We collected Maddy and set off for Lincoln, which much to my amazement we found, it's on the top of a hill near a river - it wasn't really lost, and Maddy knew where it was all the time. I helped Anne remember which hand was left and which was right - most of the time I was correct (she hadn't noticed I was wearing my watch, which nearly made it easy).

Seeing as we were heading towards what was a Roman settlement, we decided to use 'Sinister' and 'Dexter' for left and right respectively. It made directions even more chaotic but Anne and I giggled like two schoolgirls most of the time. This meant when we did park in Lincoln, we did so next to a public loo.

The castle was worth a look and we opted for the free guided tour, which was very good, if at time frivolous - but then how do you make the gruesome details of hangings interesting, without everyone throwing up? One old lady walked out of the party, the rest of us stayed the course and learned loads. It rained of course and we alternately got wet and blown. Inside the castle, which was used as a prison, we visted the prison chapel which was in its original form with the bizarre ideas of the day and its total segregation of individuals. Barbaric doesn't come into it. No wonder people died or went bonkers after being locked up.

Lunch was okay, and we moved on to the Cathedral. It's a huge place, with decorative facade that must have taken years to build. However, despite all the majestic style and the efforts of so many craftsmen ancient and modern, the one thing it was lacking was any spirituality. To me it felt cavernous and dead, even though the choir were singing evensong, and very beautifully too, it was devoid of the reason for its creation. A supposed house of God - maybe it was his day off, it was a sunday, after all.

A quick flit to the shops and I bought some pan scourers and trousers, not in the same shop. Then we decamped to Newark, pausing in the car park to assimilate and ingest some wonderful chocolate truffles Anne had made. I gained a pound just holding one.

We had dinner in an Italian restaurant - see they weren't all pub grub, where my minestrone soup was like a pot of vegetables and I couldn't manage to finish my cannelloni as a consequence. I didn't however have a pudding, like someone who shall remain nameless won't they Mad? Some coffees, and chatter, more coffees and even more chatter before we went back to the B&B dropping Maddy off enroute.

There I fell asleep trying to write the next episode of Bike, which was a bit shorter than usual - I took out the gobbledygook I'd written when nodding. Retiring to my bed I zonked until my bladder woke me an hour later.

As I went back to bed I suddenly thought of all the poor folk who'd died at Lincoln Castle, especially those who were executed. Some took 45 minutes to strangulate while being hanged. It was also here that a more scientific approach was developed which made it more humane - if killing people can ever be thus described.

We'd ascended the 54 uneven steps up to the Lucy Tower, which is a ruin and was never roofed over, the rooms had been built around the walls so the centre was never covered. There were little tombstones dotted around the place, with dates and initials. We heard the fates of some of them, including two babies who were innocents, dying after their mother was incarcerated and them with her - she was still nursing them.

I felt sad for them, the area was unconsecrated ground, not that that makes any difference to me, but it might have to them. So I lay awake sending, I hoped love and light to them all, irrespective of whether they were innocent or guilty. I fell asleep eventually before traffic noise woke me at half past six and I dozed till seven. Then we came home and another Gabycon was well and truly over.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_Castle