A SATURDAY WALK

I went walking today. Once I'd laced myself into my walking boots, I decided to walk along the river into town, with a quick visit to a deserted Forbury Gardens and the Abbey Ruins.

Deserted, eh? It seems this second lockdown has had very little impact. There were kids with bikes, exasperated parents, runners, joggers, strollers along the towpath - very much like a normal Saturday in fact. Lockdown Schmockdown, it seems.

I sat on a bench to eat my lunch. It wasn't chilly; in fact, the low, bright sun was warm when it made it through the trees. There were long shadows on the golden grass, and the river chopped along.

An enormous flock of geese soared over the trees squawking and gabbling. There were hundreds of them, combining their croaks into a cacophony of bird-noise. Then, almost all as one, they swooped low and landed on the water, just at the opposite bank. I found myself wondering why birds do that, and how they know what the plan is. And also, what the point was. Did one start off and the rest follow? I had a feeling that at some point they'd all get bored and squawk off to the next landing point.

I'd gone to Waitrose to get sandwiches today, an event that had been fine apart from my glasses steaming up with my mask on. I think the cold air just made the situation worse. I stood in front of the sandwiches not being able to see a thing, so I swooped up a box of egg and cress sarnies, a pot of watermelon chunks, and a marshmallow bar.

By the river, I suddenly discovered I had accidentally picked up a protein bar and chicken and cranberry sandwiches. I ate them anyway.

As I was munching on a chicken sandwich, enjoying the river, a young couple, holding hands strolled by. They stopped, facing the river, just opposite me.

How sweet, I thought. The romance of the river on a beautiful November day, with the sun and the autumn leaves under a dappled blue sky and... oh my goodness they were smooching.

I've nothing against 'smooching', hey, we've all done a smooch or two in our time, but these two were, shall we say, pushing the PDA-envelope?

Right in front of me! I mean not knowing where to look is one thing (left, right, even up, but anywhere other toward) but when you've got to contend with the noises, and it's all just three feet away! I mean, honestly! I was petrified I'd forget how to swallow a bit of chicken, that it would get stuck in my throat and I'd have to clear it and it would sound like I was hinting at these two lovebirds.

In the end, they managed to prize their lips apart, gripped hands, and walked off down the river. Bless.

The town centre isn't too far from the river, so a short while later I strolled through a crowd of a million pigeons and found myself walking to Forbury Gardens.

It was getting nearer to sunset by then. In winter, that's rather a lovely time of day - St Lawrence's Church and the town-centre rooftops were already dark silhouettes behind the trees. Some of the street lamps were glowing and there was even an early star twinkling. I sat by the lion.

There were still so many people there. I peeled open the watermelon and ate it with my fingers. Kids ran around the bandstand, whooping as they tested the echo. A group of men leaned back in the park benches, chattering away in Polish, and young adults walked by with white Apple headphones and denim jackets.

Once again I imagined what the Abbey must have been like. A board said that it would have been 140m from the West Door to the altar - the whole thing was simply enormous, towering over the prison and St James's church in the space where the blue evening sky hung its clouds. All that remains of that Abbey are a few walls of stone and an old song. I always find it quite melancholy.

I do like a walk. There's so much time to think and process. I got home, feeling tired, but also refreshed and happy. And before long, I'd unlaced my boots and got the dinner on, and I really did feel everything was alright with the world.