I wasn’t planning to go too far today. I’ll just start off from Mountsorrel and see where I get to, I thought. Well I walked and I saw where I got to and lo! it was Watermead Park. And I saw that it was good. I was quite tired by the time I’d walked a bit in the park and seen several expanses of water, lots of geese and a couple of herons.
Watermead Park is an area of low-lying land which is now dedicated to leisure and pleasure: there are hundreds of walks, a lake which you can sail on, loads of cycling routes and hides for bird-watching. There are also picnic tables, one of which I chose to have my lunch at. It had a white object left on it and I approached with caution lest it be something nasty but it turned out to be a painted pebble with the name ‘Alice’ on it. Wherever you are Alice, your pebble is waiting for you on the picnic table.
I rested by some trees but there was no denying the fact that I would have to walk back again, so wearily I set off. I guess I got into my stride after a while but what should have been a fairly straightforward walk was complicated by my taking a wrong turn somewhere and ending up lost. This was very trying as by now I was exhausted and could barely remember my own name, let alone where I was going (I’d had a bad night again, which makes five or six in a row) but once somebody put me right I recognised the path again. I’d got to the point of thinking I simply couldn’t put one foot in front of the other when I saw the blessed outlines of the Waterside Pub
where I’d parked. And there sat faithful Bertie ready to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet Ford Focus…
Sheesh, that was a hard day. And I still can’t figure out where I went wrong…