We looked around when we woke and really couldn’t see a lot of point in moving on today.
Moving on would mean the buzz of a city, and museums and dirt and those little round dollops of other people’s chewing gum that seem to make patterns on the pavement as much a sign that people live there as the cigarette butts that lie in long lines between the cobbles. While it’s true we may have been semi-roused from our sleep sometime after seven by a freight train tip-toeing over the bridge, we just felt we needed to gather a bit of strength before making the transition to the noise of “civilisation” once again.
So through blurry eyes we just enjoyed our surroundings, our sky and our cliffs and our trees, until the coffee kicked in and we felt the urge building to quietly be out amongst it all. That we did in due course, walking along the river’s edge at times against the cliff faces at others in dense forest but never with a particular objective in mind, except perhaps that we should return before dark, which at this time of year is a very very long time after tea time!
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