This journal entry comes to you from a seated position. This may now be my optimum position as I have just discovered I have a flat foot. Yes, I have inherited my Dad's nose and my Mum's flat feet (one of.) Why didn't they just shoot me at birth and put me out of my misery. I discovered this when I was having physio treatment for my injured knee – yes, ladies and gentlemen, this truly is a tale of woe. Just as the kneebone's connected to the legbone and the legbone's connected to the hipbone and so on, it seems that my flat foot (my left) has been causing my knee problems which in turn may have been causing my back problems.

All of which causes my head problems (not to mention my wallet) and I am currently in a state of embroiled bitterness about the whole thing. I blame Sven, Blair's Britain, bird flu, El Nino, asylum-seekers, Thatcher's Britain and poor performance on stains at low temperatures. Also it may have been The Sun what done it.

I suppose, though, it all simply boils down to a design flaw, an evolutionary missed turn (or a dropped stitch in God's rich tapestry for all you creationists.) I fear an evolutionary snowball effect. I may infact be the first and last flat footer to cross America.  For, as feet become flatter, my kind will surely be doomed. Future generations will set off for the West with strong wills and noble intentions but, after a few months of walking, the influence of the left flat foot will see a slow but steady pull towards Mexico. By Winter the Sun will be setting behind them and by Spring they will be back where they started.

What impact the discovery of this latest physiological defect will have on the walk is as yet unclear. I am off to see a podiatrist next week who I am sure will charge me lots of money for his counsel – "I recommend you do not walk 5000 miles in the next year." "Ha. I laugh in the face of expert medical advice." I will retort as I hobble defiantly out of the room.

If anyone has a spare left foot that I can borrow for the next couple of years please drop me a line. I take a size 9.

This weekend I am taking the next step towards making sure I have the money to fund the trip. I am putting my life up for sale on ebay; liquidising my assets, streamlining my operation. The news has already rocked the City, shares in Toolancorp are buoyant and Wall Street has reacted with enthusiasm.

I am looking forward to shedding the skin of my present clutter. Part of the joy of getting on the road will be to rely on only the few things that we can carry with us and to look to the landscape, experiences and people around us for stimulation. I am trying to ask myself

"Do I really need this?" If the answer is "no," I sell it.

In truth, though, I must confess that my internal dialogue runs more along the lines of

"Do I really need this?"

"No"

"Is it an amplifier/turntable/mandolin?"

"Er, yes."

"Best hang on to that then."

"You're probably right Dave"

"I'm always right Dave."

Obviously the whole process will also give me the opportunity to reaccumulate a whole new collection of clutter on my return, which is something to look forward to.

There are a couple of things that will be a real wrench to sell. My beautiful guitar, for one; a cream Fender Jaguar which I have had for years and which was already in its teens when I was born. She will be missed. Most of my records are going, speakers, amps, instruments, cameras, computers and all the various pieces of kit that I have amassed over the last few years. I am readying myself, and my bank balance, for a footloose future.

I can't wait now to finish my job, rent my flat, stash my remaining possessions in my folk's loft, pack my rucksack and become itinerant for the month or so before we leave. It will be a busy month with planning, training, a stag do and wedding, gigs and goodbyes.

But first, on with the clearout. Anybody in the market for an 8-track tape recorder without a play button?

Holy Mother of Google! The website is up. We're online and, equally as exciting, we've been GottaWalked (of which more later.)

So welcome to our humble corner of cyberspace. This is Dave reporting to you in real time, live from a secure communications bunker in Brighton.  It's a very odd thought to think that someone somewhere who I've never met might be reading this. I guess some people just have too much time on their hands – which also explains the public existence of Anthea Turner. God bless the modern age.

Anyway we need to get used to it, from here on in we will be posting updates as fast as our fingers can carry them. Anything vaguely trip related, or actually just anything if we get on a roll. You will learn of the highs and the lows; from the noble journey to the limits of physical fitness (Dave) to the blisters and chronic flatulence (Stu)

We'll try and give you a taste of some of the planning that goes into a trip like this - the equipment, route-planning and logistics.

Stu, there will be planning won't there?

And we'd love to hear from you. So take a look around, we're a little rough and ready as yet, but drop by and say hello.