On Christmas Day, Leftwing Idiot came with his dad to take me to lunch at his parents’ home. The streets were empty and I enjoyed this because I always find London particularly exciting when it’s quiet.
We drove through a part the city I used to visit regularly a few years ago, almost always on foot. As we passed the familiar streets I let out a small but audible groan and Leftwing Idiot immediately asked me what was wrong. ‘Nothing’ I said, and it was certainly nothing we needed to talk about on Christmas Day. But it was an irrepressible expression of the longing I was feeling, because I’d let my mind go for a walk.
I’ve written before about how important walking’s always been to me and how much I miss being able to go for a walk on my own. Day to day I don’t really think about it – my mobility at the moment is poor and that’s just how it is.
But every now and then I’ll be somewhere or see something that takes me back to a time when walking was easy and I could go off whenever or wherever the mood took me. Each time this happens I find myself yearning for the joy of being able to go and get lost in my city and in my thoughts.