First Saturday in the month I walk. Sometimes (like today) I have to make sandwiches prior, pack the rucksack, find walking clothes and talk sternly to my lazy Saturday seeking self to “GET OUT OF BED” It’s an early start and the bed is warm. I have data processing back – sore and locked up. And zero enthusiasm. I walk into town with robin and long tail tits singing in the flowering cherry trees and flood my system with good filter coffee. And a little bit of joy comes back into the world!
Suitably drugged with caffeine, and with a friend making excuses to the group for my total inability to make small talk we plod along under blue “photoshopped it can’t be real” sky. Chiff chaff and blackbirds hum and warble and the bird watcher in me thinks I hear a green woodpecker. But it could just be someone laughing along the heathland.
Soft cotton washed beech leaves, the twisted sleeper planks laid across bog, walls patched with river tumbled pebbles from the pebblebed heath. The sunbed coconut waft of ripening gorse and I’m searching for wheatears with their bandit black masks as we trail along. Needless to say we don’t see any.
It’s a lovely day. I hope it lasts, but if not I’m grateful.