179 days to go: Ah, balls.

That was a tremendous start to the blog. I failed to make the posts I was intending to make yesterday until this afternoon.

So my physical journey began. I took the tube to Wembley Central yesterday afternoon, kissed the concrete outside (couldn't get to the hallowed turf) and marched down the A404. No crowds around to wave nobly to as the ICExperience Skating Extravaganza was cancelled. Wonders never cease.

I'm travelling light. It annoys me that I'm carrying a 20 pack of smokes and not 10, so there's no way I'll consider a tent or any survival gear or anything. I'm heading south to where its warmer anyway. Mighty shattered by the time I reached Marble Arch I can tell you, but I pressed on, crossing Waterloo Bridge with thoughts of a quarter final with France in mind. There's never been a better time to take them on I swear. This draw has been good to us. But it was already dark and everything became much worse. I was ready for bed long before I reached the M25. Never try this under any circumstances.

I bedded down in a B&B near East Grinstead. At this stage I was chatting to local about my plans as I realised I hadn't really told anyone in person to gauge their reaction. He was full of enthusiasm for me until I spoke of the plans for the following day, and he kind of went all quiet.

Now when I was crossing Waterloo Bridge I had envisioned something like the Normandy Landing. I have packed both my Speedos and a P&O Ferries leaflet, but I intend to do this the hard way. He eventually warned me that my planned departure from Hastings, at this time of year especially, would result in my death. I don't even have a swimming hat. My only hope is to head to Dover, which is miles away. Still, two free Penguin biscuits at the B&B!

Anyway I had to check out almost before dawn this morning so I pressed on to Dover. I'd like to say I'm nearly there but not really. There is basically nothing in Kent. This has been a frighteningly bad error early on. More positive updates tomorrow.