With less than a week to my Dartmoor Daunder I am on my settee once more. The settee is my friend. But this time with a nice glass of Somerset Cider.
As usual on a pouring rain sort of rubbish Friday night, I am watching dreadful telly (it is the National Lottery rubbish at the moment as Jonathan Ross has just finished (mercifully). However, earlier we have been watching the gripping 'In the heat of the night' which more than makes up for the appalling dross for the rest of the night. But you don't want to know of my gross television viewing habits, do you?
To get to the nub of this: The computer is on my lap and the outdoor blogs have been scanned. It's mainly Duncan tonight, talking technical stuff (he has been banging on about techie stuff for a few days now! How much techie stuff can a man decently know?)
I suppose my blog reading is a bit like midnight rambling. But not in the Roaming Rapist/Murderer sort of way, you understand. Oh no.
I think it was George who was quoted in an interview with Andy Howell who said he found that reading the blogs was taking over from reading the evening newspaper. At the time I thought it was a little strange but I am coming round to his point of view.
If I can't be out there walking, it's a tonic to read of others' endeavours out on the hill. To read of bloggers agonising over gear choices makes me chuckle. This is because, sat her sitting, as I am, it really doesn't matter to me at all whether or not he is wearing trainers or the latest waterproofs. But what is important is getting out there and going for a walk, with a purpose or a walk with no purpose at all. The sheer physicality of stomping along in the rain, splashing muddy water up your other leg and smelling the saturated earth and the wet tree bark is enough.
Some of the blogs I read remind me of that freedom; of those smells and the water trickling down your neck because you don't like wearing your hood up.
Midnight Rambling: You can't beat it.