Oh, it was so fine to get out for a post-prandial walk again! As regular readers know, I have commented before on the fact that, in the sticks, you can’t go for a walk after dark. No lampposts, d’you see? Pavements might help too.
Come nightfall, you’re stuck and can’t walk off the family-sized steak pie that you polished off all by yourself.
So, leaving the isles and staying on the outskirts of Perth for a wee change recently, it was lovely to get oot and arguably aboot in the evening.
There were ducks
A lovely suburb helps, and mine featured charming houses and gardens but also … a duck pond! And it was right next to the road.
As I passed within feet of these bonny birds, they paid me no attention but were busy tucking their bills into their backs in preparation for pleasant dreams aboot breid and waterweed.
It was heartening how safe they felt. Perhaps not so much for humans: researching the place, I found a nasty crime had been committed there last year.
But all was peaceful and quiet on this agreeable autumn evening. As I walked on by, I thought how handy it would be to have the ability to tuck one’s neb into one’s warm and feathery back.
Sleep and me
I never seem able to sleep comfortably, and wake up every morning with a crick on one side of my neck. I’ve tried all the fancy, mould-to-your-body mattresses and pillows. Nothing helps.
My left side seems entirely different from my right, on which I am more comfortable. But, in the middle of the night, one likes to bung oneself aboot a bit.
‘Maybe if I turn this way I’ll get back to sleep.’ No result. Sleep works in its own time.
I don’t get upset about insomnia any more. Back in the days when I’d be sent places for exciting stories, I got hardly a wink’s sleep the night before.
Just when you needed your brain to be on top form, life decreed it would instead be cloudy and slow.
It got so bad that, after three pretty much three sleepless nights in a row, I thought about packing in the job. Anything for a good night’s kip.
But, eventually, it sorted itself out. Up to a point. Can’t remember the last time I got eight hours’ sleep.
The world to yourself
The post-prandial walk must help. Burning off the calories. Speeding up the digestion process. And it’s always good to take the air.
It’s also nice to be abroad when few others are. I loved being a postie, in my late teens, walking the quiet streets first thing in the morning. Felt like you owned the whole world.
I must say, I wouldn’t particularly enjoy walking the streets of any town centre during the evening nowadays. I found it bad enough during the day.
While I met lots of lovely people in the shops, I was shocked at how many neds and vaguely vicious-looking people I encountered in the streets.
It’s the same everywhere now, I guess. But, living away from it, you really notice how worse it has become over time when you return.
Stick to the suburbs, folks. There is peace there. And sanity. And ducks.