The shortest walk (so far)

The shortest walk so far (Before the first lockdown).

To be fair, the weather was foul. Driving rain and a biting wind. The sort of day when at school I remember Roy Knapman would get us to play rugby instead of football…for no good reason I can think of. Anyway, it wasn’t suitable for strolling along chatting.

As we had agreed to meet, Dave Brian and myself decided that at least the breakfast could proceed as planned. I arrived at the Hooga café in Wincanton to find Dave and Brian already cosseted by the logburner and fairly soon we were tucking into their version of full English – the beans were a bit dodgy so I left mine. My companions, shocked to their Yorkshire core by this extravagance, scooped up the discarded beans.

As we were whiling away the allocated time for the walk in this cosy corner (no one was rushing home to help with the Saturday chores) Pete Prescott joined us and there was all the more reminiscing and telling of tall tales. Sully, who had joined us inside for the chat, dozed comfortably in front of the fire. Another round of coffees hit the spot.

Eventually, it was time to leave and I offered my fellow athletes a lift back to their homes – only to be informed that they had chosen to drive there themselves! So our walk that week consisted of approximately 15 paces to the car, maybe 20 paces to the café and then back again. We burned most calories lifting the cutlery.