Notes on Today's Walk.

The hedgerow berries are almost all ripe, the willow herb is almost all wool, and the harvest is all safely gathered in. The end of summer is almost upon us. I was talking to a woman in the lane who said she couldn’t decide whether this summer had been a good one. It’s been, like her, indecisive. We haven’t had the cold, wet washout that we had in 07 and 08, but it’s stuttered and never really got underway.

Do you know what’s tricky about walking around the lanes? Meeting somebody coming the other way who you know in passing but have no reason to stop and talk to. Something like mild anxiety builds as you approach one another. You know your eyes mustn’t meet before you get to within hailing distance because that would feel almost like a form of intimacy, and that would never do, especially if it’s another man. So you both look at the road, the trees, the hedgerows – anything you can find to pretend to be taking an interest in. And then you have to judge the moment when it’s appropriate to make eye contact and exchange a greeting. Having done so, you avert your eyes again and breathe a slight sigh of relief when you’ve crossed and gone your separate ways. Maybe it’s an English thing. Or maybe it’s just me.

A cyclist passed me while I was walking along Mill Lane. I was possessed of a sudden and most profound certainty that he was a blob of some alien life form that was quite unconnected with my species. That’s a bit scary.