They laughed when we said we could visit 56 Piers in 11 days*, they laughed when we said people would donate money to the project, i laughed when i saw Jon's Pink 'Hello Kitty' carry mat. But now i'm sitting in my favorite armchair (yes, i have a favourite armchair) reflecting on the odyssey with a cup of proper tea and a biscuit slightly fuzzy headed after the looong drive home. It sounds bleedin' obvious when i type it out but the Eleven days basically consisted of getting up, packing up, drive to some Piers, drive to campsite, repeat till fade. But it still beats hands down Eleven days of getting up, walk aimlessly round Sheldon, spend a Saturday night in town, sign on Monday repeat till fade.

   It's definitley the 'wackiest' stunt i've done since Gawd knows when and i hope over the next few days the memories will sort themselves out in my head and replace the blurry homogenous lump of stuff that's in there at the moment. Currently the vivid moments are....

The excellent weather we had nearly all the way round (especially on the South Coast).

The people who put us up for a night.

The Sunsets over the Sea on the West Coast.

The Moon light shining across the Sea in Ryde.

Hastily jumping on a train that went the wrong way on Ryde Pier and Jon waving us off with a smirk.

Jon and Danny completely misjudging the Postcard fundraiser ("could we have 392 stamps please").

The recurring theme of Piers suspiciously burning down.

The lovely Whitby lighthouse lady who met us in the pub and took us up the lighthouse at 11pm.

Danny trying to put up an unfamiliar tent in a gale in the dark while Jon 'helped' by reciting  W H Auden Poetry.

The Students who actually live in Southport Pontins.

There's a Xmas AND Halloween EVERY week at Southport Pontins.

The gushing boiler, room swaps and empty Electricity meter frustrating Danny's attempts to have a shower

People 'helpfully' pointing out Piers not on our list (i suspect one guy was making them up just to irk us).

The People who were indifferent to the project when we told them about it.

The People who were very interested in the project when we told them about it (especially Hastings Pier shop guy).

How awful Blackpool Central Pier was (Danny thought i was going to get jumped by some oiks on the North Pier).

Ordering a Curry to the tent and watching 'Point Break' on an iPad at Harwich.

How depressing the Amusement Arcades are at the end of the season.

The old people sitting on the sea front waiting for death at places like Torquay, and Eastbourne.

The Pussy Cats at Aberystwyths campsite (especially the one that crashed the tent).

I hate Sat Navs

The Car battery dying on the penultimate day and having to bump start it everytime we stopped.

i wouldn't have had any of these experiences or enjoyed them half as much without your generous donations so once again a big big thank you for digging deep.

Midge x

And what's with the video at top of the page you ask?. We mostly had 6 Music on in the car and this was the single of the week played on rotation, i think it's frickin' awesome and whenever i hear it i'll always think of Piers

* the original plan/blog says 10 days but on the road we realised some dufus had mistyped the dates in the spread sheet

I'm typing most of these posts out with my barely charged iPhone wedged between my knees using the Posterous app which I thinks a bit shonky. I have a suspicion it's losing all my formatting like line breaks, indents etc. Apologies if you've just been receiving solid blocks of text.
Midge

"This has actually all gone rather too easy"
I'm not sure who said this last night but i am sure that you know what's coming next. After bagging a very chatty Beaumaris Pier (you do know about the Piers right?) we get back in the car and turn the key, not to hear the roar of a 16 Valve engine but instead the clickety click sound of a dead battery. Cruel fate was no match for the combined weight of my kidnappers and we did manage to bump start the bastard but for the next 100 miles a heavy doomed silence pervaded the air, limping into a petrol station to fuel up the mood quickly cheered as we realised the dud cell had some charge and started with a key, at almost the same time the Sun made an appearance.
However at the campsite it seems our optimism was a bit previous as our desire to listen to the radio instead of silence or heaven forbid each other had zapped the juice and confirmed suspicions the battery is definitely on the fritz.
But with three Piers left WE WILL NOT BE THWARTED, the solution is simply to park the car on an incline and as we're in Wales the spiritual home of hills we're practically home and dry.

Tomorrow is the final day and I'm actually a little sad to be going home, Jon says he's glad to see the back of camping and Dannys a little love sick (on this trip I've realised his charm and natural ability to be the centre of attention is nothing subtler than shouting a lot at peope whilst pissed :).
Monday it's back to the DSS but this trip IS going on my CV, i surprised myself at how much I enjoyed driving and regret not doing the Birmingham to Weston bit so I can say I did the whole loop, still I suppose there's always the 10 year Pier Review redux trip.
Mood: hesitantly jubilant, Mental stability: Jump leads
Midge

Well it means nowt to me but Southport Pontins apparently figured big in my abductors chilhoods so here we are. It looks pretty much as I expected but I'm still treated to a backseat running commentary as we drive round the complex as to how the place has changed since they were 'kids'. A trek around the site trying to find a launderette that turns out to no longer exist just confirms that things have moved on since Jon and Danny were first given illicit lager shandies by their respective parents to keep them quiet during the Bingo. The Pier here's pretty damn long, maybe longer than Southend though a chunk of it goes over the land so I'm sure the competition would cry foul and burn it down if they dared to claim so. I'm currently on a mini tour of pubs of interest with local boy Roy who tells me our holiday camp is also inhabited by the University halls of residence overspill so we're planning a Panty raid at midnight.
Had a pint in whats purported to be Britains smallest pub but I'm not convinced, i was expecting 'Circus' small but I'm sure Brum has smaller.
Right, off for Chicken in a Basket and to see a crap Northern comedian waiting for the big time to knock on his door
Mood: Cabaret, Mental Stability: Two Fat Ladies
Midge
Addendum; we've finally checked into our flea bitten chalet with a carpet which may have once upon a time been Red. Danny's over excited, topless and waving a metal pole around and Jon for reasons best known to himself has put a large Cuban national flag in the window
Double addendum: the hot water tank kerploded and pissed water all over the bathroom floor so we're now waiting on an transfer.

After a sound nights sleep in a Whitby B&B (complete with a 11pm trip up a local lighthouse with the delightfully quirky local lighthouse lady) and a three hours solid driving and we rock (geddit?) up in Blackpool. Jon thought the Place would be awful and he was right to trust his instincts. It has that a faded seaside chavy charm that attracts the type of people I would usually cross the tram tracks to avoid and it was the first place on our pilgrimage that I've seen homeless people on the streets. The big joke shop was grim and the Central Pier stalls appeared to be staffed by a Blackpool football firm who's attempts to hustle you into playing were just plain intimidating.
Jon and Danny got interviewed by the local gazette who phoned back later perplexed that I didn't have a second name, i bet they don't give Madonna that stick!?
Jon insisted we visit the spot where Alan Bradley got squished by a tram in Coronation Street, it has a Blue plaque of sorts which the hotel owner has tried to obscure with a hanging basket. Then a trundly tram back down the front to South Pier which was thankfully manned by less riff raff than it's neighbour. Tomorrow we drive to Southport Pontins for a stopover which I'm told has some childhood significance for the boys
Mood: writing, Mental Stabilty: Trumpets!!
Midge x

I'm sat typing this in The car in Cleethorpes, its starting to spit with rain and the Piers shut. This only seals my locations fate as being the most depressing one on the journey so far. My kidnappers have resorted to the seaside classic mood lightener Crazy Golf but I'm not convinced even that could change the towns ambience unless the club grips were laced with Valium. Well i suppose it was inevitable by force of numbers that at least one Pier would disappoint.
However last night didn't disappoint with a stopover on a very posh campsite complete with a dog friendly pub down the road stocked with cheap Beer, free Wi-Fi and classic toons on the jukebox.
Jon and Danny had Slushies earlier in Skegness but thankfully the Sugar and E numbers don't appear to have kicked in yet. Next stop Whitby before a bastard of a drive from one side of Blighty to t' other to begin the final bit of the odyssey down the West coast. I really don't think even with it's association with Goths and Vampires it could be any gloomier than my current Brutalist vantage point
Mood: Crazy Golf, Mental Stability: Doggerbite rising
Midge
(I typed this blog post out about 3:00 but even the magic telegraph beams had given up on the town)

We're in Cromer, it's at the top of that big round bit on the East coast. Surprisingly we visited some Piers today Southwold being my favourite as it was chocka with Tim Hunkin machines and sculptures (it's a hacking 'thing'). Not as much driving as I thought but Danny still managed to fall asleep right in the middle of writing a postcard the big dufus. Beers the cheapest so far on the trip but I guess it's because we are heading up t' North. Tomorrow it's off to see some Piers and Goth central Whitby for a sleepover Mood: mild, Mental stability: Eggshell White/pillarbox Red Midge

Driving driving driving and tomorrow more driving driving driving but enough time to bang out a quick one (fnarr fnarr). After visiting the coolest Pier shop in Hastings we stopped at a Herne Bay campsite owned by a chirpy cockney geezer who actually used the phrase "wibbly wobbly water". We can now get the tent up in lickety spit time which gives us more chance to 'relax' .I'm starting to notice some quirks of my kidnappers chiefly, when not writing postcards Danny sleeps in a little nest he's made on the back seat and Jon can get by on little sleep at all. Danny bought himself a plastic pirate sword today at Southend on Sea which appears to have made him happy. Sad to report today that my favourite shades of ten years standing finally bought it so a shifty down the seafront was required to remedy I'm sitting in a comfy armchair typing this at The Castle Inn, Ramsey which if you Google along with 'Angelic Upstarts' will reveal a colourful history. There's newspaper clippings on the wall and apparently bullet holes still in the ceiling. The debonair duo are about to order a curry (delivered to the tent) so that's me done for the night Mood: subdued (but we have done 31 Piers hence broken the back of the project), mental stability: North/north Easterly Midge

Brighton baby, the spiritual home of the Mods but alas not a one to be seen. Last night was a pleasant break from the Piers with a tour of some local boozers with local boy Adam as mein host. Jon was made up because for the first time this trip we found a friendly bonus cat and he saw a big fluffy White dog in a Norwegian boozer.
Today's plans include a trip to Primark to buy Bounder some T-shirts to replace the ones left in bag back at the I.O.W, the accompanying story has already been recounted at least three times by Danny for full comedy effect. We also saw 'that' alleyway where Steph and Jimmy had there romantic encounter in Quadrophenia. It stinks of piss and stale kebabs but appears to have become a bit of a Modernist shrine.
Next stop Hastings where the dynamic duo are going to be interviewed for some documentary, wonder how long it'll take the bloke to twig that the guys really aren't 'that' into piers :S.
Spirits still good, mental health good to firm if a tad hungover
Midge

A smooth ferry across to the Isle of Wight and my breakfast thankfully stayed in situ. I have to say that pound per pier I think we got gipped but the moon across the Ryde sea was pleasant enough. We stopped in a flat in a bootiful converted mansion, entertainment courtesy of Jon falling out of bed onto Danny ( FYI Danny screams like a girl).
We're now on the ferry back with hopefully enough petrol fumes to roll us down the off ramp and onto a garage forecourt. The intrepid duo are scribbling away postcards and regretting not actually thinking that idea through ( ha ha).
Weather v good, spirits high, overall encroaching insanity kept at bay.
Midge.