Wanna launch a blog? About walking, say? Long walks, uphill (but rarely downhill), drenched in rain, working up a rant, heretical discoveries (eg, driving to the start turns out to be the best bit), knocking off numerical targets, talking or remaining silent, trajectories with a purpose (eg, finding a loo), forgetting and remembering, boasting about fashionable kit.
Age may reduce the above options. Shorter walks mean more attention to detail. Shapes of trees, styles of fencing, comical sign-posts, funny hats, unidentified flowers, varieties of rubbish, clouds resembling domestic vegetables.
Greater age may compel even shorter walks which rely on literary devices. To the post office adds drama; to the plumber causes gloom. Teenagers overtake you and you look the other way. Pierre Allains (Wrongly employed but why not?) are out of place en route to the library.
Leading to the shortest walk – the one without walking. The imaginary walk. A whole new world! Huge benefits: no need to leave the house, meals need not be portable, thirst isn’t a problem. Wearing PJs is entirely acceptable.
Take this proposition: from dozing in bed to standing, legs apart, in front of the en suite porcelain. It takes time, I kid you not. A twinge (“down there”) sets the idea in motion. Ten minutes elapse between lying down and sitting up in bed. Slippers (Damnit! Downstairs!) give way to bedsocks ; oh the bending, the contortions, the heavy breathing. Time flows like tar in winter. Finally you’re standing, but is this a temporary or permanent state? Bright spot: falling down takes no time at all
But here’s the thing. There’s no actual need to disembark for the en suite. You may simply daydream it. Adjusting the temperature. Flights of angels may accompany you. The compass gathers dust.