Being woken up by the alarm clock everyday Monday to Friday (6.47am – ten minutes snooze then up at 7am) leaves you craving for the days when that excruciating brain drilling sound can be turned off for some well deserved weekend shore leave on the land of nod. Sadly, ‘she’ works Saturday and Sunday, so this duvet dallier becomes an intrepid explorer...There’s not much to do early doors at the weekend, TV is pretty naff now I’ve sort of grown up. Breakfast news’ constant repetition of three un-newsworthy events that wouldn’t even get mentioned in passing with your neighbour, seem to be on a loop that only the blank stare of Suzanne Reid can keep my intense gaze long enough for a guilty pleasure, before flicking the doofer (that’s changing the channel on the remote for those who have never lived with me) to freesports – the Korean break dancers kept my attention for 10 minutes, until ‘she’ came downstairs to see me tangled in a head spin. That leaves Toonattik, which is only good for SpongeBob square pants and that’s it, seeing as we no longer have sky - that’s another story...
...anyway, I'm rambling *rimshot* where was I....intrepid explorer and head off out for a walk. Not one of them walks when you are about to flip or them walks when you are going under, but a good ole fashioned stroll. A mooch across the map. Putting that twenty year old Gore-Tex rare ‘colour way’ *cringes* through its paces.
anyway nipping out for bit of fresh air getting some fresh bread for your cobs/muffins/barms etc etc is ...this can be done by easily slipping on whatever shoes are left by the door. Mine are all put safely away back in their box, upstairs, in the drobe – (fear of night fairies stealing them) – this leads to working out what ensemble to piece together and actually looking at the weather thinking what would..well er weather best
A strong herd of about twenty were loitering with intent 200 yards, when one of the saw me…I hoofed it over a fence, peering through some bushes when there was a grunt – face to face/toe to hoof with their main lad – bully. Wide shoulders, nose ring – and he looked horny! It was a bull. I was in a field.. But you knew that didn’t you
It was like being an extra in withnail and I –no not Richard Griffiths.
Strolling at a steady pace along the canal, nodding to fellow trekkers as we passed – the urge for a piss took hold. Now you know that feeling when you’ve been supping ale on a mini bus for an hour or two and you are in between the pub/the ground/the service station, but you feel like you’re going to burst open and no? Just me then (must get to the Doctors about that)…well anyway, the need to urinate was very strong – after a brief moment of panic, the realisation that there wasn’t another person in sight or even a building for a few miles, mad eme just unzip and do it up a tree– a rabbit did jump out and went for cover as a fog of waz steam blocked up his burrow, but there was none of that awkward silence, eyes down at the trough though.
It was invigorating/probably illegal.
The whole point of this gibberish is to introduce you to walking. Most of you can probably walk – it’s sort of natural - but getting into goretex/mountain/outdoor gear and sensible footwear, whilst heading off into the great unknown
Since its 1935 inauguration, the Ramblers has helped coax, campaign and path by path build England, Scotland and Wales into some of the most walk-friendly countries in the world.
So, randomly, here is an interview with the Chief executive of the Ramblers Association...
“It is at the heart of walking in Britain”.
