...which is exactly what I did today, covering myself in guilt not glory, and all because of a little bad weather.
Well, it was more than a little, really. It was actually hammering down the entire day, and running would have been no fun at all in that downpour - splashes of water on the backs of my leg make me vulnerable to calf strains.
However, I did manage to get my walking trousers and neon sex kagoule on, and headed down to the park. The River Devon is just in the process of going over its banks, not that this bothered the mallards who must have loved having more room to play in. The rain lashed down, and the only birds out of the water were a few gulls wheeling around overhead. Alder cones were sailing in splashy puddles; my feet washed them away in tsunami surges as I walked by.
That sort of day.
I actually enjoy walking in adverse conditions, there's no-one else around, and there's just this sort of elemental thrill of survival pulsing through your body, an Aldi Ray Mears refusing to eat any dog mess tainted leaves.
A Ray Mears who later walked to Morrisons past a rising Trent, and got a lift home with his stepdad when he bumped into him.
All text and imagesd copyright CreamCrackeredNature 03.01.15
|Rising River Devon|
|Swans loving it|
|Over she goes|
|Not bloody today it wasn't|
|Line up now, ladies|
|Quaggy old wood path|
|Daffs are spearing up|
|Nearly in flower|
|Trent nearly over|
|The working boats|