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"Am I doing something wrong?" Morris asks, as war breaks out in Iraq. George and Tony are just not listening and poor Morris is beleaguered by self doubt. Still at least he meets a nice couple with a Winnebago, a lizard and couple of hard hats...

The sun is shining with the ferocity of a five-card bingo player who needs just one more number , my pale Shropshire complexion is suffering a bit and I am forced to stay indoors. IÂ’ve been looking on the Internet for signs of Camilla Edwards and how I might contact her directly. I looked on Internet Search Engines under "evil", "anti-Shropshire propaganda" and "dirty lies" and could find nothing on her.

It may not be the same person, but if you look at the credits for the 2001 childrenÂ’s film "Monsters Inc", under Miscellaneous it has the credit - Assistant To Co-Director: Camilla Edwards.

ThereÂ’s something deeply wrong somewhere.

Just to be on the safe side I feel very strongly that we should all boycott Monsters Inc, just in case. Now I come to think about it, Shropshire is not mentioned once in that film. Go and see the 1950 classic "Gone To Earth" instead. A fine film, written by a Shropshire woman, set in Shropshire and filmed in Shropshire. Who needs computer generated one-eyed monsters when you can watch the glorious Shropshire countryside coupled with the story of a beautiful but innocent country girl who loves all the creatures around her, especially her pet fox cub?

I bet Camilla Edwards wouldnÂ’t appreciate it though; sheÂ’d probably give it nought out of ten. SheÂ’d probably watch the first five minutes and go and watch a film set in Devon instead, I canÂ’t think of any decent films set in Devon, there probably arenÂ’t any.

Much as I expected, George and Tony have ignored my advice. Instead of looking to Shropshire for an example of how to get on with each other, they have taken a course of action more in keeping with the actions of someone who knows nothing of Shropshire life. They have started bombing Iraq. I wish they hadnÂ’t, it puts a real dampener on my quest for world peace and happiness when people go starting wars.

People in Alabama seem very concerned about the war starting. They all seem to be buying supplies, water, and tinned foods and duct tape. IÂ’m not quite sure what the duct tape is for but I bought a couple of rolls and keep them with me at all times. Just to be on the safe side.

There was an Anti-War demonstration today so I joined in. I had kept some of my anti-Country Life banner rolled up in my bag and was able to re-use them.

On reflection, using a protest against war in Iraq as a platform to incite hatred against a magazine nobody in Alabama seems to have heard of was not my finest hour. I did get three hundred and seventy four people to sign a petition asking Country Life for a second opinion on Camilla Edwards research, but to be brutally honest, most of the people who signed it probably thought they were signing an anti-war petition.

IÂ’ll be sending the petition to Country Life anyway, at least some good can come of all this.

I got talking to girl at the protest that was called Polka; she looked a bit like a young Mexican Judi Drench. Polka had written on her white T-Shirt in black marker pen (she’d used permanent marker in a moment of anti-war frenzy) "Don’t Bomb Iran". I tried to explain to Polka that Iran wasn’t getting bombed, but she misunderstood and started screaming, "it’s over! It’s over! ", over and over. The news that Iran was not being bombed spread like wildfire and the anti-war protest soon turned into a street party, people were celebrating the end of a short-lived bombing campaign of Iran. I climbed a lamppost and managed to convey to the crowd that Iran was not being bombed, Iraq was being bombed, someone shouted "Not there as well! Bush he is a crazy man." and the protest began again. As I left I saw Polka making the ‘n’ on her T-shirt into a ‘q’. A small victory for truth.

I know this all sounds unlikely, but I was there, it happened, the level of confusion surrounding me is very high. I saw an elderly woman duct taping shut her front door "to protect me from the nuclear", I pointed out that not only had she just duct-taped herself out of her house, but that it was a woefully inadequate countermeasure to most weapons of mass destruction. She ignored me and climbed in her window.

I rang home, Mother wants me to come home now a war has started. I told her that my war started the day I left, my war against any oppressor I come across, any wrongdoer I disturb, anyone called Camilla with the slightest connection to Country Life magazine, no-one is safe. Mother tried to make me promise not to try and personally sort out Saddam Hussain. I explained that though it was unlikely IÂ’d be able to hitchhike as far as Iraq, no-one was beyond the reach of my grip of justice and it would be against my principles to make such a vow.

Apparently Toby is moving in with Sophia, she feels unsafe given the current political situation and didnÂ’t want to be alone in her house at night. I hung up before Mother explained anything about the sleeping arrangements, IÂ’m sure Toby is just doing what any neighbour would do to make a vulnerable woman feel safe.

I once went to a café in Market Drayton where the cheese and onion pie had not been sufficiently microwaved and there was a crunchy, frozen bit in the middle, but even that did not prepare me for a restaurant I went to today that sold nothing but raw fish. They had gone to a great deal of trouble to present it on little dishes, but neglected to cook any of it.

Despite my complaints they insisted it should be raw and spurned my offer to buy them a deep fat fryer. Some people just refuse to be helped.

I expected to have made more of a difference by now. If anything the world is a more unsettled place now than when I set off two months ago, what am I doing wrong?

Thanks to Mike Batt for his concern about my safety, I noticed this message - "Morris where are you? Are you ok? Shall I post you a pasty?".

Mike was concerned because my ´óÏó´«Ã½ web diary was not updated for a few days, donÂ’t worry Mike, all is well. In answer to your question, the ´óÏó´«Ã½ do not currently pay me, I offer my gems of enlightenment without the motive of personal gain, I seek only to enrich all lives by sharing the rich and noble path that I have chosen.

I played Bingo for a bit today at a local hall, had an argument with the caller who refused to use the accepted pre-number phrases opting instead for topical pro-war puns -

"Drop that bomb - Twenty One"

"Support the War - Number Four"

"Watch that Landmine - Thirty Nine"

"Way to go Mr Bush - Twenty Eight"

Packed my bags and hit the road again this morning, IÂ’m near to entering Pickens County now, the countryside here is beautiful, not as lovely as Shropshire, but stunning in its own way. Country Life would probably give it one out of ten.

The sunrise this morning over the cotton fields made me homesick for the simple pleasures of life in Moreton Say. I miss the quiet pace of life there, the lengthy conversations with old Mrs Randall about her wide-ranging and exotic medical problems, the familiar symphony of Mother and Aunt Felicity arguing about which low-fat spread was superior, lazy afternoons watching Countdown with a calculator, a dictionary and some cheese.

A couple driving an enormous camper van have picked me up. A lovely couple called Roland and Uma. Uma looks like an overweight Bette Davis and Roland bears a quite uncanny resemblance to Stewart Kidder, only without the wooden leg. They tell me they spend their retirement travelling the States and are more than happy for me to join them for as long as I like, my faith in human nature is restored.

They call their camper van a "Winnebago"; it has a wide screen TV, kitchen, shower, lounge and even a guest room. ItÂ’s like a house on wheels, only nicer. They also have some sort of lizard living in there, like a pet that roams free. IÂ’m not sure what sort of lizard it is, but I do know itÂ’s called Murray.

Roland and Uma are incredibly hospitable, I stayed up late last night, past 11 oÂ’clock, talking to them about Shropshire and my goal to tell the world about how marvellous it is there while at the same time righting wrongs and freeing the oppressed masses. They seemed genuinely interested, a response I am not accustomed to.

Today Uma is driving leaving Roland free to ‘surf’, which apparently is one of Roland’s favourite things. He strips to his Y-Fronts, stands on the roof of the Winnebago on a small platform constructed especially for this purpose, straps his feet to the platform, smears himself in grease (to protect from the cold) and puts on his ‘magic hat’. His hat looks to me like an industrial hardhat with the word "Happy" crayoned all over it, but Roland insists it is, in fact, a family heirloom and of great mystical importance. Then Uma puts her foot down and Roland spends the day waving at passing motorists and causing minor road accidents. I find it all very exhilarating and I’m not the one strapped to the top of a speeding Winnebago.

While Roland rode up top, I spoke to Uma as she drove. Uma tells me she is 107 years old, IÂ’m not sure I believe her.

I’m going to try ‘surfing’ now, Roland is letting me wear his special hat.

Wish me luck