TWENTY FOUR HOURS

or What a difference a day makes.

We had a lovely walk this afternoon, starting with two very well kept pints of Greene King IPA at the Pensioner’s Pub. We took in the ruin at Wimpole Hall and a couple of villages. One of the villages had had a pub that was turned into a Thai restaurant that was closed down because the waitresses weren’t just serving food to their customers. Interestingly it is about to reopen as a Chinese restaurant. I wonder what will be on the menu this time.

It was a gorgeous winters day today: Hardly a cloud in the sky and no wind. And everyone seemed to be out for a walk. And not just the usual clutch of ramblers either (we classify ‘ramblers’ as the older walkers who have their trousers tucked into their socks – possibly unkindly) All ages and in groups of happy smiling young adults. That’s strange for Cambridgeshire. I don’t know why. Answers on a post card please.

Still, it was nine and a half more miles for the new boots and we finished walking though the splendid parkland of the Hall well past sunset, taking off our muddy boots back at the car in the dark. All this followed by home-made carrot cake and a cup of tea back home in front of the fire, planning our next walk on Wednesday in the White Peak; Dovedale is favourite, leaving home well before dawn.

On top of that and there were a couple of lovely emails waiting for me for walking partners for a couple of days in March on the walk and an offer of a bed in the southwest.

The world is a bright happy place again.

I suppose with the pressure of getting everything sorted for the walk, an elderly Mum in a spot of health trouble and life’s usual round of knock-backs and slip-ups, you are bound to get down once in a while. So it’s always heartening when things start going right again.

Chin Up Sloman and Get On With It!