I have always been a walker. Not a wanderer - that is what I sometimes hear them calling me now. No, I have always been a hiker. Someone who flings a rucksack on their back and dons big boots - leather ones are best, although you do have to work hard to keep them soft and supple. Dubbin is the answer. I used to have some once. Wonder what I did with it. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. I have always been a walker and, believe me, I've done some of the hardest and most challenging walks in the UK. Once I went trekking in the French Alps, but I never really got on with all that garlic stuff and those legs they eat - what are they? What sort of legs do the French eat? Can't remember. Ah, yes. I've bagged a few Munros and done the Pennine Way and walked across moorlands before they invented all these new-fangled modern long-distance trails. I love walking. Love the outdoors. Love.... What was the name of that girl I used to love? Trying to remember things these days is like looking for crunchy bits in a bowl of trifle. You get the impression they are there but you can't just quite fish them out. And they are the best bits.

The birds are making a racket this morning. Whose garden is this? Why am I standing here? Oh, yes, I was thinking.... Well, I've always been a walker, not a thinker. A proper walker. Not a wanderer - a word they sometimes use when they talk about me in this place. Where am I?


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ganymeder over 9 years ago

Oh, senility is so sad!

Excellent writing!

RuthLivingstone (joined over 12 years ago)
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