A sunday stroll.

A Sunday stroll. It looked serene, we had sunshine, full tummies and oh the bluebells ; the views. Castle Neroche in Somerset. Four of us, my husband his brother and wife, me of course, me myself. Wanting to walk off lunch, and Jay had been told it was beautiful. We walked and talked, we laughed and photographed; giggled and we were thouroughly enjoying it. It was a sweeping downward walk in the forest. Jay pointed out that it had been an hour or more, and we were still going down hill. Then we climbed and climbed, still we climbed; all of us looked whacked. I was trying to not show my struggle. Stopping I looked about and remarked on the view, and the stunning bluebells. Amidst the rustle of leaves and birds song, we could hear the sounds of Deer munching. A faint wheezing and panting could be heard, a red faced group gazing towards me ( while leaning on tree trunks, hands on bent knees).  Faintly a lone voice could be heard saying “f*** the bluebells”. I swear, at an hour in to the walk up hill; I heard Jane Fonda crooning, ” can you feel it, can you feel it”. Having burning throbbing pains in my legs and buttocks, wasn’t  pleasant. Realising that the beat I thought was Jane Fonda, turned out to be blood forcing it’s way through myeardrums. Four miles never ever should be that hard! Exhausted and relieved that it was over, we reached the cars. Once home, we looked on good old google. We had just walked four miles, ( we still swear it was ten) the last two had 850 metre  incline. I doubt we will repeat that particular walk, any time in the near future… But was it beautiful.  Did the forest walk have massive drops coated in bluebells? “yes” and we wouldn’t have missed it for the world. How did it happen, when did we get so totally out of shape? That is being rectified with an eating plan, and more activity. But the question that remains unanswered is, when did this occur?

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