Robert Twigger’s travelogues have always had a wonderful globetrotting sense of adventure. Here he attempts something closer to home; walking the “line” that connects Stonehenge and Lindisfarne and many other ancient landmarks. If that sounds a bit more prosaic than previous escapades, such as traversing the Rockies in a canoe, then it is – after marvelling at an ancient mineral well at Purton he has a pasty from a Co-op in Cricklade.
A poet as well as a travel writer, Twigger slips easily from one stylistic register to another. One minute he is “buggering around”, the next he is using words like “ontologically”. He is not one of those adventurers who uses his literary skills to rise above all hardships and inconveniences. Often grumpy and wary of strangers, he is a more cussed version of Bill Bryson, wandering from one mishap to another. His cheerfully inconsequential ramble has a random quality.