Day 17 Part 1: Portsmouth

Breakfast at The Ferryman Guest House was served on the top floor, and in some style. James has furnished The Ferryman in a manner consistent with the 1930s era of the building itself, and I enjoyed my delicious cooked English breakfast in black and white surroundings.

Set up for the day, I walked back to the port and chanced upon a block of flats bearing a placque. It recorded that Arthur Conan Doyle lived and practised there as a local doctor, writing the first two Sherlock Holmes stories while there.

A little farther on, I found the City Museum and a whole exhibition on Conan Doyle and the Holmes phenomenon. It also explored Doyle's bizarre beliefs and his interest in spiritualism which dominated his later life. He was one of the leaders of the fashionable fascination in spiritualism which followed the Great War. Before the day was out, though, I was to end up in even stranger quasi-religious territory, in the town in which the self-proclaimed Son of God now lives, writing about the reptilian super-race that apparently rules the earth.

I really didn't know what to expect from Portsmouth, only having driven through to the cross-channel ferries before now. It was great - bustling with crowds brought out by warm sunshine. Gunwharf Quay led to the Spinnaker Tower, whose lift sped me to over 100 metres high. This has to be one of the most spectacular panoramas I've seen. From Southsea to the Isle of Wight, Gosport and the naval dockyard, there was such a lot to look at. I watched an American naval vessel come into port and tie up among the British frigates and destroyers. Heavy ferries danced around the tiny yachts with what looked from above like a daring impatience.

A chocolately pint of Abbot Ale slipped down very easily outside the "Ship Anson" pub, while morris dancers entertained the crowds on the quay.