One of the many things I love about walking is the conversations it promotes. In the countryside thoughts seem to pass as freely as the breeze, and I always find that talking is less inhibited, more thoughtful and more provoking on a long walk. Fittingly, we discussed the joys of walking and the reasons why we love it so much. It seems to have a reputation as a way for old people to keep fit, or even worse, a pastime for the dull-minded; but for me it reflects only adventure, challenge and freedom. My Grandad was an enthusiastic walker - he walked and walked and walked, even when he was in the advanced stages of cancer, he carried on walking through it. He used to take me and my brother off with him when we were really young, and we would be gone all day, lost in his tales of the war and the excitement of the lands he discovered. My Gran would dispair when we returned, always late for tea and tired out, but still we walked with him every time he asked us to come along. And an integral part of any walk with my Grandad involved a pub stop, which is a strong tradition fifteen years later, of course!
We found the perfect beer garden. In fact, I've never found one quite as perfect! A few (very cheap) pints and some MSG-filled treats later, we headed back home. Everything seemed a little abstract when seen through beer-goggles, and it was impossible to approach the stiles in the same spring lamb-like fashion as earlier. But still, we made it back fuzzy and content, to an evening of holiday plans, sweet treats and rubbish TV.
These boots are made for walking, and (fingers crossed) that's just what they'll be doing on Friday!