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Flyfishing by J.R. Hartley

I haven’t had a drink in nine days. I’ve started to think again, which can be dangerous. Mostly, I have been thinking about having another drink. People think this walking stuff is good for you. I beg to differ. Apart from not keeping my liver embalmed in a protective sea of lager, my waist is also suffering. The only food I can find with enough calories per kilogram to carry and eat en route is chocolate and nasty dried food. So my daily consumption is typically a pot noodle made with cold water, some porridge made with cold water, and an enormous slab of chocolate. Hmmm.

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