The Longest Walk

Friday, 7 September 2018

On the first full day of our mini-moon, we agreed on a relaxing walk. 'With a stop off for a Sunday lunch,' we said. 'Possibly even cream tea,' we said. As a trusting new wife, I allowed my new husband to plan the journey and, armed with a flask of water, we went on our way. It was about an hour in that I realised I'd made a mistake. And so did he. For our relaxing stroll, misjudged due largely to our chosen lack of internet, but partly because he is too much of a high achiever for his own good, turned out to be a bloody hike across barren lands, no pub lunch in sight, no anything in sight, really, for five hours, UPHILL. With no food and no hope, we trekked to the highest point in Lancashire, past animal bones and dead grass and a complete lack of water (I feel a nice lake or two may have eased my pain somewhat.) At one point, we had to climb over a wall, and upon putting my foot to the ground, I sunk into a dead sheep. A. DEAD. SHEEP.

It was rotting.

I suggested divorce.

Don't be fooled by this happy face. She was knackered

This one was fine, though. Hard as nails

Despite at first maintaining that the walk was FUN and 'HEY LOOK, WE'RE IN THE CLOUDS!' D was, about halfway in, suitably grovel-ey as we descended hill after hill, walked mile after mile, and saw dead animal after dead animal. 

Luckily, after a little exhaustion cry and a moment or two of him apparently thinking I 'wouldn't make it' (god I'm unfit), my sense of humour kicked back in, and we managed to enjoy the day. As much as we could through the weakness, anyway

Looking back, it's possible I was delirious 

Look, I even let him hold my hand. What a forgiving soul I am

After five hours of pain and disappointment, our ordeal came to an end, and we all collapsed in a heap with a curry, watching TV show after TV show on the projector until bedtime. I have never slept so well in my life

And my calves have never been so sore.

(The bastard.)

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