Go Forth and ……….

It feels a lot longer than three weeks since I last set out on a ‘proper’ walk. Though I wouldn’t for one minute say that the health issue is behind me, it is not, at least at the moment, causing me the problems it was around the end of November. No doubt there are painful times to come, but life goes on and I’m not going to just sit around the house waiting for it to hurt.

In the meantime, a news item that the Forth Road Bridge was to be closed for a few weeks, even to cyclists and pedestrians, took my mind back almost two years. The route initially planned for that walk took in Edinburgh and the Forth Bridge rather than the west of Scotland through Glasgow. That would have enabled me to retrace some of the journey that Richard Hannay took in Hitchcock’s The 39 Steps (interestingly the book written by John Buchan, from which the film is adapted, is “The Thirty-Nine Steps”). What I didn’t know until recently is that the public house in which Hannay rested overnight was in the town of Moffat – where I actually did stay (The Stag). Quite coincidentally, Pammy and I went to the Mayflower Theatre, Southampton recently and saw a stage adaptation of Pammy’s favourite Hitchcock film Rebecca (which won the Oscar for best film in 1940 – Hitchcock himself never won Best Director Oscar, despite being nominated five times).

I diverged from the original route due to the difficulty in finding good accommodation over a number of days over the east side of Scotland but if I hadn’t, and the Forth Bridge closure taken place while I was on my way there, it would have caused havoc for me and my plans. At least four nights accommodation would have had to be rearranged, quite possibly without refunds.

Anyway, let’s move on from that to today’s walk. Perfect weather and conditions – dry, comfortable temperature and little in the way of wind. I felt I was walking slightly more slowly than usual, but it was only a couple of minutes longer than the standard 100 in reaching Fareham. A stop in a coffee shop where there were the most awkward looking baristas dressed up as elves and a welcome cuppa and cereal bar. Mind you, one of the female baristas had an elf costume that was slightly too small for her very shapely figure which no doubt would have encouraged some young male customers (and possibly some females too) to build up their loyalty points with more coffees than is normally thought healthy. At least I wasn’t offered a “special Christmas special coffee bean special” as I have been in previous years and instead had my very boring usual skinny latte with caramel (not sugar-free, incidentally).

On the way home, I took the scenic route in some places to build up the mileage to 14, a good return after a spell out. One of the downsides to walking in December is the shortness of the days and, in particular, the sight of over-decorated houses. I am not against some relatively tasteful strings of lights, but Warsash Road and Locks Road had three absolute monstrosities – and these are probably the same people who complain about their electricity bills requiring a second mortgage. I couldn’t bear to take pictures of them for this blog, and partly also since, in each case, there would have been a car (complete with number plate) in the picture. Disclosure control, direct identifiers, risk of harm and distress blah blah blah. If only they knew the distress these things can cause to others. Some years ago, I was driving home down Warsash Road and a car just stopped in front of me, then the indicators came on and, while cars continued in the opposite direction, I was stuck behind this idiot while his partner and children got out of the passenger side to marvel at some light bulbs. I’m not one for road rage, but on that occasion I came this close to telling him to go Forth and ……………….

Legs felt a bit tired and, on the inside of the heel, there is a decent blister. Not painful at all. But it is an indication that I haven’t done that much walking lately since, for me, blisters are about as rare as a Daily Express front page without mention of the weather, migrants, refugees, Muslims, Jeremy Corbyn or Princess Diana. I don’t think this one will bother me unduly – incidentally, you should never pop those blisters, since as they heal they offer great protection against future problems.

So, when shall we meet again? Hopefully not in thunder, lightning nor in rain. Not either when the hurly-burly’s done, but when I’ve done a few more miles and the battle is closer to being lost or won.