A walk in the countryside

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The thing is, I’ve been living in the UK for the better part of nearly twelve years now, and The Mom’s memory is sort of a creative no-fiction random generator. She’ll remember bits of stories I’ve told her over the years while not remembering the precise locations of these details. Which is problematic in the extreme considering I’ve living in Cornwall, Glasgow, and London.

But never mind. Since my friend and I have been undertaking these long walks, in part for research for a project her father has instructed her to start, I’ve become a fan of walking in the UK. And it really is a great way to see bits of the country you wouldn’t normally see as a tourist, especially a tourist such as The Mom who generally will not take a bus for love nor money, and insists upon packing a range of inappropriate footwear.

Now, I am not stupid enough to think I can take her on a 12-mile walk similar to the ones my friend and I have been taking, but as she mentioned in advance that she would like to go to the seaside I gave her two options: a typically shit English seaside town (of which I am a huge fan) or something more like what she’s imagining from having watching far too many films set in a strange and largely imaginary England. She chose the latter.

So I did my research and found a suitable place, and went so far as to get an OS map so that I could see if there were any places of note, and also any terrain she might balk at. The fact that I got a map was alarming it would seem. I don’t think it’s the map itself that was alarming, but rather the fact that I knew such things existed and wasn’t going to rely solely on my phone and deep love of having a random day out.

The other issue at hand is that, whilst misremembering where bits of things in my life have happened, she takes no grain of salt whatsoever with my stories, and appears to have a rather twisted view of the country. In Cornwall to get to the ASDA I had to go through fields that often had cows in them, which she found hilarious and I just found inconvenient. In Glasgow, the winters were harsh and the gales strong and so now when she hears the weather will be windy she expects a gale, and forgets the fact that I live in the West Country and she’s coming to visit in September.

Anyhow, you’ll read about our walk by the seaside another time (since she’s arrived in the UK she’s been cackling to herself and scribbling away in a notebook like a fiend) but for now, suffice to say that a walk was had in remarkably good weather and it didn’t even rain once.