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So I'm walking to Istanbul . . .
Every time I wake up in a new country with a stinking hangover I vow to not drink before I travel again. Alas, with a day to kill in Plymouth before the ferry left the vow was broken again. So half a bottle of champagne on the Hoe (which Dave enjoyed from the comfort of Mum's car), a tour of the Plymouth Gin distillery, a few last westcountry ciders and several lagers on the ferry later- we woke up in Roscoff. With another 4 hrs to wait here before we could move on anywhere we opted for coffees and pottering around the beautiful but desserted fishing port. Tonight we are in a motel in Quimper watching french Simpsons, hoping to make it to Pointe du Raz tomorrow to begin the next phase!
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