Tag: Walking

Strange season

Walking through Glasgow yesterday, my eye was drawn to a few window boxes. Dashes of scarlet red and vibrant yellow were glowing in the early morning sun, people were walking about in short sleeves, sunglasses hiding their eyes.

As I walked on, a burnt orange leaf helter skeltered towards the ground then, as the chilled breeze picked up, more and more leaves fell to the ground. So summer is over, and autumn is already knocking on the door.

But, is it just me or do the seasons seem to be overlapping more and more?

Flowers are still in bloom whilst the trees take on their autumn rust.

The only reason I ask is that autumn is my favourite season, especially these days as we no longer really get a summer, so I’m always on the lookout for that change in the seasons.

Which means this weird merging of the seasons is really throwing me out of whack. Is it still summer? Or is it autumn? How do I know?

Glorificus Tempestas

Walking home, the sun warming my face, cherry blossoms plucked from the tree, gently swirling on the breeze. These are the days, the moments to capture and cherish. Walking past gardens stretching out of their winter slumber, awash with colour. Spring green punctuated vividly.

Watching the bustling bee, fixated and engrossed. The cat, tail flicking idly, peerlessly survey her kingdom. The birds dashing here to the remains of puddles, flitting there to collect twigs and moss.

The cars whizz by and I revel in my solitude. There is only me, the sun and the world.

As I climb the hill the colours continue, reds, yellows, and purples, radiant under the blue. Above me the tendrils and wisps gather gently as if not wanting to spoil the moment, guilty of forming clouds.

I turn the corner, almost home. I realise my feet are burning, my legs hot and tight, my brow damp. Onwards I stride, breathing hard. Exalted and alive.

Walking by myself

Inspector Sands has bought himself a pedometer in an effort to measure if he walks the suggested 10,000 steps each day – he’s not far off as it turns out. Seemingly the average is around 3,000 steps, and I thought I’d analyse my average (work) day walking habits. Hell I may even buy a pedometer!

So, if I average out the main “walking” parts of the day, and start with, say, 1000 steps for daily things (getting up, going to bathroom etc) what is MY average?
In the morning I get a lift to the station – 0 steps
Station to office – 4 minute walk – 200 steps
Random trips around office – 100 steps
Out for lunch – 4 minute walk – 200 steps
Random trips around office – 100 steps
Office to station – 4 minute walk – 200 steps
Station to car park – 100 steps
Pottering around in the evening – 300 steps.

Grand Total = 2200 steps

No, that can’t be right. Can it?

Ant Weddings

Walking to the train station this evening I, and my fellow “must get home as quickly as possible so I’ll be rude and barge past everyone” commuters, were accosted by swarms of flying ants. Swarms as in hundreds of the wee buggers, several of which made it onto our train.

Luckily I didn’t end up almost eating one like the guy across the aisle from me.. but then I wasn’t snoring either.

The look on his face was priceless it has to be said, and several of us sitting near him were struggling to surpress giggles, having just shared “christ, he’s loud” glances and raised eyebrows minutes before.

I had a nice ham salad for dinner. Hold the ants.


Walking to work this morning I managed to send three cormorants diving for cover to the murky depths of the Clyde with a particularly loud sneeze.


Walking for the train last night I passed some building works, a new office block no doubt, about 6 or 7 storeys high. Right at the top two guys were erecting scaffolding. Standing on one bar, hanging on to one upright, it all looked very precarious to me (and from someone with a mild fear of heights, bloody scary as well). Admittedly not quite as breathtaking as the pictures of the workers having lunch whilst working on the Empire State Building – pictures which demonstrate one thing, you must be certifiably nuts to do THAT job…. I digress.

It got me thinking about my fears, then onto my aspirations, and somehow round to my ‘selling out’. I used to be a staunch supporter of many things, and I still am. I just don’t vocalise my support as often (if at all). A few years back I remember a friend at university heckling someone for selling out and becoming middle aged. Is that person now me?