I walk around a bit. Yes, I know we all do that, but I mean I go out for a walk in an attempt to lose weight, and so far it’s working well. I usually go round the Northumberland countryside, as you may know if you’ve been reading this blog, but today I’m in Cheshire, visiting my Father-in-Law as part of his bubble. He has a comfortable flat and I could have spent the day watching the cricket on TV but my self discipline kicked in and I decided to go out for a while.
I hadn’t thought that I’d end up comparing my walks up north with my walks here but that’s exactly what I did do. And we have a clear winner. Here’s why.
In Northumberland, there are wide open skies, friendly locals, peace and quiet and a real sense of being away from it all. For all that Cheshire has to offer, and it does have a lot of plus points, it’s not ideal if you want traipse around in Gortex. There are some lovely houses, some pretty countryside, attractive pubs and people with lots of money. Try finding a McClaren, Bentley, Aston Martin and Porsche showrooms anywhere else outside London.
Walking around Cheshire however, at least this particular bit of it near Handforth, was a completely different experience. Every step was completed with the background noise of traffic. I got off the main road quite quickly but the noise never went away. Up into the woods, where nature hadn’t quite given up, I came across a sign that told me I was currently the star of a security monitor somewhere as I passed underneath a CCTV camera.
Moving away from the camera, I met a lady coming the other way with a perky little dog on a lead. She kindly stepped out of the way to allow me to pass so I said a cheery good morning and thanked her. Now, I wasn’t expecting a round of applause or any kind of reward for that comment, but even a smile would’ve come across as less hostile than being totally ignored. Obviously she wasn’t from Northumberland, where we would have chatted about the weather or her dog for a couple of minutes before moving on.
Then along a marked narrow footpath which was a little slippy as it had rained overnight. Running along the side of it was a wooden fence, covered in barbed wire. An unsuspecting idiot, like, say a visitor from Northumberland who fancied going out for a walk on a Saturday morning, might slip on the path and slice his finger open on the barbed wire as he reached out to steady himself. But no one would be daft enough to do that, would they? WOULD THEY?
Presently I found myself on a golf course, but the footpath was marked quite clearly so I ducked the flying golf balls and walked around the course trying not to bleed onto the fairway, or whatever the bits of grass are called where all the people in unusual trousers spend their weekends.
Anyway I survived the experience, and found myself back at my Father-in-Law’s flat without having bled to death, been attacked by other walkers, or appeared on Crimewatch. And I see that as a bit of a result.
Final score? Northumberland 4 Cheshire 1. Next time I’ll try Alderley Edge, and try not to fall off it.
Steve's Journal 