catalog

Well-known member
Went for a very long walk this morning with the dog, was out of the house by 730 and not back til 10, it was 12000 steps (just checked now and my total for the day is 20000). So nice to be out early when no-one is about. Saw a bird of prey, a massive bull on the other side of a wall, that the dog skipped past nervously, a lot of blown about detritus, got lost a bit, came home and made a nice cardamon and ginger coffee. Magic. Set me up well for the day, I wish I could do it more often.
 

shakahislop

Well-known member
i walk around the city for a couple of hours a day a few times a week. my usual route is from the east village to chelsea, coz at the end you can go to a few galleries. it's an old habit of mine and one of the true advantages of being in new york is that there is a lot to explore. the english countryside is obviously better though, provokes a totally different feeling.
 

catalog

Well-known member
I went to a provincial gallery on Saturday, pissed with my friends. One friend just kept laughing at all the comments in the book from people struggling to understand the paintings. They were awful in general tho, really really bad English abex. Very dull and grey, post war drudge I suppose, so in that way quite good.
 

john eden

male pale and stale
I walk for an hour every morning in the time I used to commute. 8-9. I go a bit mad otherwise.

There are some fun related walk activities like watching the seasons change, or giving people directions, or scraping off covid denial stickers too.
 

john eden

male pale and stale
Oh I dunno. Those White Rose stickers about manliness, anti-Semitic new world order stuff etc seems pretty fascist to me.
 

IdleRich

IdleRich
It's such a boring walk no one else does it so you don't see a soul. Just trudge joylessly ever onward.

Once you're about halfway and you've crossed the Thames at Goring you start to get the big set pieces; the devils punchbowl, the white horse at Uffington, Waylands Smithy, the huge iron age fort soon afterwards it began to pour with rain. Torrential ceaseless merciless rain for a whole day. Completely exposed on the treeless ridge soaked to the skin, delirious, insane

Just began an episode of what is universally acknowledged as the world's greatest ever police procedural, Midsomer Murders (alright there are now some who claim The Wire is better but I still think MM has the edge. Of course it's evident that if Barnaby could have somehow transferred to the relevant Baltimore precinct he would have had Barksdale, Stringer and Marlo too, all behind bars within the standard two hours and... anyway I digress, apologies) and this involves bikers riding the ridgeway and its surrounds.

As well as referencing that Powell and Pressburger film with the guy throwing glue over people, there is some kind of sacred burial ground in the mix which is clearly based on Waylands Smithy, and there is a character with the curious double-barrelled surname Waylands-Smith (is the guy in The Simpsons also named after that place, I've often wondered https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waylon_Smithers).

Always intrigues me the interest that this ancient burial ground evokes in people. I don't know precisely the first time I visited the spot (not counting my actual birth obviously) but I do remember that by the time I started at primary school I was very familiar with it. As I grew older I didn't tend to think of it that much although a shiver did run down my spine when Matty Bramwell told us about how one time he happened to be walking past there at about 1am or something similar and he saw a weird ritual with loads of people in dark hooded robes muttering unintelligible yet still unmistakably sinister sounds by candlelight. Of course he dare not try and penetrate the outer ring and enter the barrow itself and so his guess about human sacrifice remains unconfirmed - but I'm sure that most of you will agree with him (and me) that it is by far the most likely explanation for the stuff that he really definitely did see that cold dark night.
 
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