Going for a Walk

I went outside today. No, no, no, I'm fine, I haven't gone crazy. And yes, this is Katherine writing this. I just felt compelled to leave the house, is all. Tired of procrastinating writing an essay through watching videos of baby goats on the internet, I decided to procrastinate by taking a walk. I brought along with me the book I was meant to be writing the essay on, in a small bid of hope that I was contributing to my essay in some way. 

Buckingham is in the heart of green-belt country, with not much to do in terms of shopping and entertainment facilities like cinemas etc. What it lacks in suburbancy (yes, I did make up that word), it makes up for in breathe-in-the-fresh-air countryside. I didn't even have to walk far; the river that runs alongside my university is perfect for walks. Now, I am from the near-London suburbs, where we walk fast and with purpose with our heads down, not talking to anyone. There are fields there, but they are brown and ploughed, and not particularly inspiring to walk in on a winter's day. Therefore, sometimes the very idea of "going for a walk in the fields" can seem a bit obsolete, a bit Wuthering Heights.

I found a bench right by the riverside, tucked slightly away from the squealing children in the playground and the competitive tennis players on the tennis courts, wearing shorts I shudder to imagine wearing in such conditions, and opened my book. Charles Dickens' Ghost Stories, in particular, A Christmas Carol. Not really the setting for such a book; a sunny midday in February, but I enjoyed reading outside all the same. The occasional dog would sniff at my feet as it pattered by and a few parents with children walked past: parents attempting to teach their sprogs the ways of the world, the child more interested in a slug they had stepped on. I was at the centre of the world but disconnected from it at the same time.

Being a novice at "going outside", I made the fatal error of not putting on enough layers (because two jumpers and a coat are not enough apparently), and I had to retire from my little spot after about an hour. It had been nice to look up every now and again and catch the sun reflecting on the water, to notice how fast the river was flowing and how at some points it could be completely silent.

Don't get me wrong, I'm from Kent, "The Garden of England", I've seen my fair share of countryside. I've been to numerous National Trust Gardens and grew up with a garden that backed onto a woodland. Today was different though. It was unplanned, you didn't need an entry ticket. It really did feel like something someone did "in the old days", to just go for a walk and sit and read outside. I think that's sad. That our generation is imagined as the people who see "outside" as just the place in between home and work. We adorn indoors with plants in pots as a way to make us feel closer to the natural world, when all we have to do is step outside.

Not wanting to sound preachy, it's just that I am annoyed at myself for neglecting outside. While the downside is that it isn't temperature controlled, I think the benefits are enormous. From just an hour of being outside, sitting with no real purpose, I feel momentously healthier. I think, next time, I will donn as many layers as I can without looking like the Michelin Man, so I can sit outside for as long as I like. Plus, I got to stroke a cat on my way home, which was nice.

(same cat a few weeks earlier)