Today, blue above everywhere. We went walking through the Sussex countryside. First the speed of the road felt by the whoosh of the cars passing. The noise an assault. Some minutes later, the launch through the muddied gate and the frosted field crunched under foot. The road was quickly forgotten. The first talk of national events.
‘At last,’ I said. ‘A public outrage. I have been waiting twenty eight months.’ On this one my friend, J, agreed.
We came to a cross path, took the wrong one, walked back on ourselves. Hardly a hardship in the brilliant sunshine. Into the woods, we had the time of day with some walkers with a two year old.
‘That’s a Peppa Pig beanie!’ the grandpa added, after I had complimented her on her wellies.
‘Oh, no,’ I thought. Even that to me had been sullied.
Back on the main road and the speedsters like bats out of hell, we beat a path through woodland, skirting a reservoir, sliding in the mud and scrub.
‘Did you walk on the veld?’ J asked.
‘I suppose we did but snakes were involved. It was tougher and the heat drained us.’
I was trying to remember what it had been like. It was ancient history.
‘We walked in the Matobo hills and did some rock climbing.’ It sounded more adventurous than it was.
Back in the mud, J waded through looking for a way around the fence. The far hill was our destination. From there we could walk down through the village of Catsfield and regroup at the pub for a coffee.
‘My shoe has got stuck!’ J warned, with his foot now exposed and a half capsized shoe listing.
Mindful of my previous personal experience with mud, I gingerly picked my way through to retrieve it for him.
Soon we walked along the barbed wire fence, until some trees had made a path for us to hop over and, at last, we were out of the woods with only a hip hill to saddle.
© 2022 Copyright Rick Frame
School Of Blue 