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The Walk.

The way is long the small instrument strapped loosely to my leg would tell me how many miles I have walked, You might say that is good enough but it does not tell you of the heat. The blazing sun trying to scorch the brains from out of my head or the gradients leading up one hill after another. The disappearance of the water from the deep well in my garden that I filled my two water bottles with before I left home.

Whose Idea was it to go on such a march that I am sure would have stretched the devils very own patience? I tell myself again and again no more walks or should I say marches for me after all I am over fifty it is time for me to settle down and perhaps dig the garden or a little decorating around the house. I am sure this would please my wife more than those long marches that leave me stiff and awkward for days afterwards.

I could also volunteer to look after the children even that can be a little tiring but not half so tiring as those marches in a most lovely countryside that I cannot really take in. Too tired, too concentrated on that gadget around my leg relentlessly counting each tiring mile with no let up. I move, the gadget records, it is as simple as that. I am sure this gadget was put into the world by the devil himself, I can imagine now sitting watching each pearl of sweat running down my forehead gathering into a little stream of my misery and of course mixed in are many swear words all aimed at the devils head.

I feel I must be fair, it has nothing to do with the Devil I am sure he has other things to do than to set me off on a route march covering mile after mile. Where am I going and what is the point walking mile after mile getting nowhere, No wait a moment getting nowhere, no that cannot be true for sooner of later I return home.

My lady wife means it well when she asks so innocently how are you my dear? Do you feel better for your nice stroll? Now I must really take a grip on myself. Nice stroll indeed. Take off gadget from around my leg. Triumphantly show it to beloved wife. Look at how many miles I have walked, nice stroll indeed. Read it woman can you see what is registered. I have walked forty miles today. Forty long weary miles, Do! you know anyone else that would be so daft as to walk forty miles for so called pleasure. Well do you? Do You? Do not get yourself upset my dear after all it was only a walk and many people go for nice long walks and I do not hear them having an argument over just a stroll in the fresh nature. I have given that Gadget to a man that I have no real care for. I hope it brings him as mush pleasure as it has me especially the arguments that take place after I arrive home tired, angry, Quarrelsome and for me to put the blame on my beloved wife. No that was the last walk or stroll in my spare time. From now on I will always be occupied I will see to it that no more time is spent wandering up hill and down dale. Let those animals that live in the Nature enjoy the countryside. My snug little house is more than enough for me. Bern