 | | SEE ALSO | | The Morris Telford archive. Read about Morris's previous exploits, and find out how the adventure has unfolded.
Follow Morris's journey
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven | | | PRINT THIS PAGE | | | | | FACTS | | Name: Morris Telford
Age: 33
DOB: 18/04/70
Occupation:Unemployed
Hobbies: Enlightenment, Philosophy, Bingo Favourite book – Ordnance Survey Map of Shropshire 1999 edition Favourite foods – Pickled Eggs Favourite film – Late For Dinner
Favourite colour – The delicate cyan of the dinnertime sky in Moreton Say.
Favourite British County – Shropshire
Favourite Place – Moreton Say
Favourite Postal Code Area – TF9
Favourite radio
frequency - 96FM
Favourite sound – The gentle breeze rustling through the leafy glades of Moreton Say
Favourite Clive – Clive of India
Favourite Iron Bridge - Ironbridge
Favourite adhesive note size – 75 x 75mm
Favourite Vegetable – Anything grown in the fertile soils of Shropshire
Favourite band – Men From Earth *(shameless plug)
Biggest inspiration – Marlowe Bidforth
The BBC is not responsible for the content of external websites. | |
| | No more houses, no more doors, and most especially no more windows... just me, my pack of loyal huskies and the frozen tundra.
Nut much in the way of townss or vilagges, just lots of snoow and twrees, the dogs pretty much steer themselvves which is just as wellk since holdin on takes most of my energyyy. It's hard typing on my palmtop whirle im wearing thesbe enorbous glubves. I've found another use for paperclips. I've bent them into small spirals with a prong pointing from the middle. I've fixed them on the end of my gloved fingers, that way I can still type on my palmtop while I wear gloves. Paperclips truly are the universal tool, the stationary equivalent of the Swiss army knife - capable of any task. I'm becoming quite attached to the pack of huskies that are pulling me across Alaska. I was told the names of the dogs when I hired them, but after a day I've forgotten them all, so I've renamed them after famous Salopians. Clive of India had a bit of a fight with Christopher Timothy earlier and I had to separate them with a tree branch. Thomas Telford urinated on Percy Thrower. Percy retaliated by trying to mount him and Sandy Lyle MBE ate all my mints. I've been trying to head north and should have come across a township by now. However, all I've come across for the last couple of days is snow, ice, trees and what I think was a life-size replica of Much Wenlock Library encased in ice, but I was very cold and tired when I saw that and it might just have been a hill.
Mostly its just snow. The Huskies seemed to know where they were going, so I pretty much left them to it. I think that I may have overestimated their canine navigation skills. I think I might be lost.I'm trying to keep warm at night by sleeping between Percy Thrower and Clive of India. This worked out fine until I woke up this morning all tangled up in harnesses and straps.
I cut myself free by sawing at the straps with the ends of paperclips... but this allowed all but one of the dogs to run off. The dogs were still strapped together, so perhaps they think I'm still being towed behind them. They might come back when they notice I'm missing. I hope I'm not expecting too much of them. I'm going to wait. I'm still waiting. I don't think they are coming back. I'm stuck now in the middle of Alaska, in freezing temperatures, with only a sled and Sandy Lyle MBE for company. I'm not sure even the paperclips will help me get out of this.I think it's New Years day today, though the calendar on my palmtop PC says 01/14/99. I don't think it was designed to operate in these sub-zero Alaskan temperatures.
Actually, neither was I. I'm afraid I might have frostbite. My ears are incredibly cold; I think a bit of my right ear snapped off last night, but I might just have dreamt it. I let Sandy Lyle MBE go in the early hours. I'm sleepy with the cold and that made me think of my Star Wars duvet cover at home in Moreton Say.
I started looking at Sandy and thinking of the start of The Empire Strikes Back where Luke Skywalker keeps warm by cutting open his Tauntaun. Then I started trying to make a light sabre out of paperclips, but fortunately I came to my senses and thought I'd better let the dog go before I get any more Jedi delusions.
He was whining and uneasy anyway and I thought he probably stood a better chance on his own. I cut him free and he shot off into the white night like a number four iron drive with a headwind.
I hope he finds his own doggy equivalent of Shropshire. Just before dawn I saw a light in the distance and left my sled behind to stumble towards it. I thought it might be a passing snowmobile, or a small building, or just a fire surrounded by burly but friendly Alaskans with hot tasty snacks and a hospitable nature.
After about an hour I realised it was just the sun rising. That was a bit of a disappointment. I've lost my sled now too. I've fashioned a rudimentary pair of skis from tree branches and paperclips and I'm trying to make as much ground as I can before darkness, starvation, frostbite and loneliness set in.Just before dark last night the photocopier of fate successfully performed a duplex A3 collated copy in my favour and I found civilisation once again.
I came across a rough track and followed it to a crudely painted sign that welcomed me to, "Lost Hope, Alaska, population -34" It's a lovely little place, a bit like Ellesmere but without the pub restaurant or ducks.
I don't like the name though. You can lose your money, your self-respect, your mind, your signed photograph of Carol Vorderman, your hearing, your hair or your favourite bingo marker; but hope is the one thing you must never lose.
I've misplaced mine a couple of times, but it's always turned up. The secret is to think of the last place you had it. The population is stated as minus 34 on the sign. Apparently they have had more deaths than births now for 137 consecutive years.
Each time someone dies they deduct one from the number on the sign, each time someone is born they add one. Somewhere along the line they lost count. When I arrived I walked into a bar and they were very welcoming. A lovely man called Roland, who is wider than he is tall, told me, as he wrapped me in warm towels, that I'd never, ever want to leave.
He obviously doesn't know yet that I am on an important mission. I'll tell him later when I get the feeling back in my legs and head....I slept all yesterday. At least I think I did, or it might be the calendar on my Palmtop not working properly again. It still seems to be sending this to the BBC... I hope someone is reading this. I'm starting 2004 in a little Alaskan town called "Lost Hope". I'm staying in a room above the local bar; it's quite cosy, especially compared to the divan of frozen ice I have been sleeping on. Over the last few days I have once again hung precariously over the deep fat fryer of death, only to be left uncooked at the very last moment.
I feel quite unstoppable again now, filled to the very brim with enthusiasm. I'm committed to telling the poor frozen souls of Lost Hope that there is indeed hope left alive in the world... approximately four and a half thousand miles away, just off the M6, in the warm and welcoming bosom of Shropshire. I rang Mother again just now, still no answer. I hope she is alright. It's not like her to leave the house for more than a few hours; she worries about the cows breaking into the kitchen and drinking from the sink.
I'll try her again tomorrow. The locals all seem to come to the bar at night, so I'm going to go down tonight and thank them all for helping me out... Then I'll explain to them that they should all move to Shropshire.
They seem like a perfectly nice bunch of people - all beards, muscles and red check shirts. I'm sure I'll fit right in.
I thought I might convince them to have a Bingo night in the bar this week as well. They don't know how lucky they are that I have stumbled into their lives, but they soon will. |
