The author, George Mahood – and his mate – dressed only in Union Jack underpants, arrive at Land's End with a plan to cycle to John O'Groats, without spending a penny. They have no clothes, no money, indeed no bikes, but they do have a lot of face, and presumably an incredible manner for within minutes they are up and running.
Ok, so the book could have done with a haircut and manicure from a good editor, but how publishers didn't pick up on it (I assume) is beyond me. Because it does more for the countryside and the people in it than anything outside Paul Evans's Country Diaries. It's a celebration of humanity and the British love of eccentricity. The generosity of most of the people they meet is extraordinarily heart-warming – excepting in Bromyard, Herefordshire.
And Shropshire bats well above the average, which considering that includes Ludlow came as a very pleasant surprise. Indeed, I was proud.