Walking

It seems that on my race to become an OAP (see earlier post regarding soup) I have also become a fan of a walk.

I remember, when Lucy and I were younger, and happily playing in a warm bedroom, when the parents would utter the dreaded words "Let's go for a walk". Our hearts would sink, and grudgingly we would pull on our shoes, and step out into the cold, normally wet day and trudge along for what felt like hours. And Lucy and I would conspire to never force our children to do the same.

And yet, 15years on, and I have become a devoted fan of the walk. And recently have started walking home from work.

It all began one day when I was terribly tired, but had to stay up, and could not have coffee (as it prevents me from sleeping later on). And the only activity that suitably appealed was the brainless activity of walking. And so I walked. Along to Waterloo. And then down towards the Imperial War Museum, past the Oval Cricket Ground and down the rather beautiful Kennington Road.

And suddenly I was nearly home.

It has now become an almost daily routine (unless I am of course in a hurry, or it's raining, or I have too much to carry - don't get me wrong - given any excuse, and I am happy to jump on the tube).

And as I walk along, I realised that London really is a beautiful place to live. So often I am whizzing past on the bus, reading a magazine, or sitting underground on the tube. But as I walk home I am passing the London Eye, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament. I get to cross the Thames, and walk over historic bridges.

Sometimes it takes simple things to make us stop and slow down. But I am so glad that recently I have started to do just that.