Stephen Gough writes from a prison cell (book extract).

I was arrested two hours ago, an hour into my naked walk from my home town of Eastleigh in England to the historic city of Winchester and back again; a round trip of 14 miles. It had been a cold day, the temperature hovering around 3 deg. C, but with an 11mph north-east wind coming at me, it felt near to freezing. No wonder there had still been ice in some of the puddles and the odd snow flurry in the air; though, in spite of all this, I was pleased with my fast progress. I was following the footpath that went along the banks of the river Itchen that joins the two conurbations through what's left of the strip of green land in between. It was cold but it was bearable as long as I kept up my pace; and I had the comforting prospect of walking with the wind on the return journey, so I knew I could complete it if I was left alone by the police. Alas, it wasn't to be.

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