I can't remember which weekend it was that Freya and I decided to switch things up a little and walk along the canal. There have been many such lovely walks over the past few weeks, but just no time or energy left to write about them. And that's just how it is now. I hope you can forgive me for not writing every day, like I did in the first lockdown – I would still love to, but it takes ages to come up with so many witty words, and I'm just not that clever a writer.
So, whenever it was, Freya and I went out one morning. It was one of those mornings when you can't always tell how warm it's going to get. I could've checked on my weather app, but I'm an impulsive and forgetful person by nature and I just don't remember to do sensible things like that. I also keep forgetting to take water out when I walk – this hasn't been an issue since Freya came because I've been limiting her to no more than a couple of miles, mostly to protect her little joints. But I think she's getting to an age now where she can safely do some longer walks.
We drove up to Shady Lane at Hest Bank because the canal's always very lovely there. See?
It didn't feel all that warm at first, but it often doesn't in this wee contrary valley. I didn't even think about needing water for myself, partly because I was only intending to have a short walk. But goodness, it was a pretty day. Why would we want to go home to a messy house and bickering teenagers when we could be outside for a few hours, listening to the birds and the soughing leaves, smiling at strangers and admiring well-behaved dogs? Two miles often turn into four on days like this.
Today, whenever I saw a sloping field, an image of those little Ingalls tots running down the hill to their homestead in Little House on the Prairie popped into my head. I kept trying to hum the theme tune as well, but I couldn't remember it. I've had to Google it to satisfy that thing you get when you can't remember a tune, so you can listen to it here. And because it's only right, though not relevant to my walk, here are the opening credits to The Waltons. And then even less relevant and not remotely related, but definitely absolutely necessary, the opening and closing credits to All Creatures Great and Small. Don't say I never give you anything.
So, off we trotted, enjoying the sun, saying hello to everyone we passed. There are lots of lovely houses to admire around here, all backing onto the canal. I'd love a house that backs onto the canal, maybe with a little boat, like Ratty.
Ooh, that's nice, eh? Lovely little spot. It'd be nice to stay in this place for a while to zen out and think about nothing much but trees and clouds, but I don't think there's a bench here. And I am very lazy – when I pause for a rest or a moment of introspection, I like to be able to sit.
Tried my hand at photographing a bee. It was a fast bee and I didn't get a clear shot – this was the best one. Don't think I really have the right lens for this.
La la la la laaaaaaa! Oh no, that's The Waltons. Laaaaa laaaaa laaaaa laaaaa laaaaa laaa la la la – that's Little House on the Prairie.
So we'd passed a lot of houses and fields, ducks and swans, people and dogs and it was around about here, near The Royal pub and hotel, that I started to think I might have made a grievous error in not preparing for the walk and bringing water. It was getting rather warm. Freya was looking happy enough, but she'd had a couple of little paddles and had slaked her thirst with the, umm, delicious-looking canal water. I looked down into the pub's beer garden and saw lots of socially distanced people drinking pints and icy soft drinks and realised that I hadn't brought any cash or cards with me, so I wouldn't be able to buy a drink. Now that I think about it, the pub was probably using an app that you could pay on, but that didn't occur to me at the time because, although I'm quite clever, I'm also rather stupid.
I did find this hedge covered in a web of scented sweet peas though. Very beautiful. Sadly, not drinkable.
So we pressed on. You might ask why we did keep on walking instead of turning round and going back to Shady Lane. That would be a very good question. The answer relates to what I just said about being stupid. I don't like turning back if I can't sit somewhere for a rest first, so I was looking for a bench. I probably added an extra mile to the walk by doing this, and I didn't find one in the end.
It was at this point, when I started to hallucinate and genuinely think I could see three little girls skipping down the slope across the water – I didn't, this is hyperbole – I decided that we'd best just sit down on the grass and call that our turning-back point. So we did that. What I'd like to know is why more people don't sit down on the grass at the side of the canal. It's lovely!
Look, just here. The bank is quite high in some places, but Miss Freya was still able to reach the water for a really good drink. She might have eaten some wee fish as well. I was sorely tempted to give her a little nudge to see if she could swim because she hasn't done that yet and I think it's about time she did. But I felt a bit mean. And if I'd done it, given her that little hilarious push, I'd have had to tell you about it here and some of you might have been disappointed at my cruelness and my willingness to laugh at my dog's surprise and possible distress. So I didn't. But I was very tempted.
I wish I'd done it. Look at that face – she clearly wanted to go for a swim. Maybe I'll shove her next time. I'd throw her ball in, but she wouldn't know she was supposed to go in after it and then we'd have lost a ball and littered the canal.
Incidentally, lots of people we've passed on our walks have asked if she's dangerous and that's why she's wearing a muzzle. She isn't, and she isn't. It's a Halti, which is an anti-pull lead – takes control away from her powerful front legs and chest and gives it completely to me, making it impossible for her to pull. Works a treat.
Well, after our rest, we headed back. I was sweating and red-faced and starting to get a bit of a headache, but my dog was fine. It didn't take us very long to get back to the car as I'd got a bit of a shift on because I wanted to reach water and food.
I did have one of my emotional moments when I got to this little wood, however. The thought popped into my head that there are trillions of trees in the world (although, nowhere near enough, obviously), and that made me feel very small and insignificant, and then I cried. What the hell! Is it the menopause? I think it could be the menopause. It's not normal to cry at trees, is it?
Anyhoo, this was weeks ago, and I've got some more nice walks to type up for ya, so I'd best crack on.
Until later, lovelies,
Linda + Freya
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