I decided that we watch too much naff telly and should get out more. I toyed with the two of us going cycling together, but that seemed cruel to the faithful hound, Smudge, who would not be able to accompany us. So I plumped for rambling: exercise, fresh air and a happy collie: perfect!
I checked out The Ramblers’ Association website, found an organised walk not too far away, and booked us in.
Her indoors wasn’t keen on the idea. She was OK with the walking, but she hates being organised by anyone.
It started badly. The walk was due to start at 10:30. As we drove up to the parking area, we could see folk wearing “walkers’ uniform”: silly hats, special walking trousers, those weird spats over their boots, and, worst of all, glass-fibre extendible ski-sticks. Is this Lincolnshire or are we doing the Eiger? I felt Maeve start to bristle beside me.
“How far are we walking?” she asked, sarcasm set at around cherry-red.
There were twenty of them. They seemed friendly enough and genuinely pleased to see us. It occurred to me that we had probably lowered the average age of this walk by around three years. I should stop thinking about statistics when I’m not at work.
So we set off into the lanes and paths of darkest Lincolnshire. The pace was gentle, a bit too gentle. We’d only been en route for forty minutes when the leader announced “comfort break, ladies behind those bushes, gentlemen over here”. Maeve’s sarcasm-ometer is turned up to crimson.
“I need someone to tell me where and when to piss?”
Smudge did her best to ingratiate herself with all present. One old lady was clearly besotted, but when she started giving instructions “Come along Smudge” Maeve’s hackles rose still further: sarcasm at golden yellow.
The stick bearers wafted with gay abandon. I’m guessing they’re not used to having a dog along. Now, Smudge is quite capable of looking after herself and will steer clear of anyway flailing a stick. But Maeve was in flounce-mode and insisted on having Smudge on her lead, in case she “lost an eye to one of these nutters”, sarcasm at white heat.
Defined lunch break and further piss breaks did nothing to diffuse the situation.
By 15:00 we had completed the circuit and arrived back at the car-park. Four and a half hours to cover nine miles: that’s two miles per hour. Even allowing for the breaks, it’s slow.
All in all, I quite enjoyed my ramble. Smudge had a great time. Maeve grudgingly admitted she’d enjoyed the walking but was adamant she would organise any future outings herself. It remains to be seen whether she will actually do so, or whether she really needs someone to organise her.


About micklively

Fifty-something, pacifist, six sigma black belt, lean implementer, brewer, vintner, guitarist, wood-turner, and slave to collies.
This entry was posted in collie, dog, Lincolnshire, outdoors, pleasure, ramble, sarcasm, walk, walker and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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