“Walking for hours and miles becomes as automatic, as unremarkable, as breathing. At the end of the day you don’t think, “Hey, I did sixteen miles today,” any more than you think, “Hey, I took eight-thousand breaths today.” It’s just what you do.”
Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods
Hard as it may be to believe, lying in Pensioners’ Pilates, the Monday blues had hit home hard. A week ago I’d been halfway up a mountain and the contrast prompted a quote from last year’s walk which went something like this.
“The best thing about being up here is that you don’t meet any knobheads. Well, that’s apart from the ones you’re walking with!”
Not that I would class any of the pensioners as knobheads. Later, as I showered, some idiot was trying his best to retch his entire intestines out in an adjoining cubicle. Now that’s a knobhead.
It was not long before I was feeling that I was surrounded. Out in my car I saw the ugly stares leaning over steering wheels, heard the screech of tyres and sensed my Dales calm being destroyed.
In the supermarket three enormous tattooed women blocked the aisle oblivious to my far greater need to get home. I took out my imaginary harpoon.
How I missed the great outdoors: the impassive looks of sheep taking a carefree leak as you stroll by, on trails that seem unending. And the company of like-minded souls. Said one:
“It’s not the all-day walking that’s doing me in, more the all-night drinking!”
Which leads nicely to the next piece.
The Real Social Media
Here’s a piece from the BBC website that may get you thinking.
“Researchers…found almost a third of 16 to 24-year-olds in 2015 said they didn’t drink, compared with around one in five in 2005. Binge drinking rates also decreased – from 27% in 2005 to 18% in 2015.”
Of course surveys range from modestly misleading to utter bollocks but the sample size of 10,000 is not insignificant. Was I as saintly at that age…sadly not.
The pub was the centre of our world; not just for those who necked a gallon of beer a night, but for many who made the leap from youth club to pub as if this were the next world to explore socially and culturally.
Many of us spent all weekend and more in our favourite pubs with our favourite people. We ran sports teams from there, raised money for charities and watched as relationships formed and lives together were started in hope.
So what do young people do now, unexplained by the article? I cannot believe that they are all at home drinking carrot juice and meditating. In my opinion many have simply been priced out of the pub by inflation busting hikes in the price of alcohol.
You can purchase cheap supermarket booze but who wants to drink alone especially if, like most, you are still living with your parents.
“Don’t mind if I invite the footie team around tonight do you Mum?”
Finally, there is an interactive quiz within the article – How much have you drunk in the past week? – which I would not encourage anybody who has just spent a week walking in The Dales to even contemplate taking.
Time for some Belarusian classes I think!
One Hundred Years Ago
More tales of young lives wasted here as the war finally ground to an end a hundred years ago. Utterly pointless carnage.
Too Big To Give A Stuff
The recent announcement by Barclays that our local branch would be shutting came as no surprise. None of the banks have come out of the last decade with an morsel of morality.
Most were bailed out only to systematically shaft those whose money had kept them afloat despite their greed and conceited idiocy.
Of course Barclays will point to the fact that they were not bailed out by the UK Government. Instead they went cap in hand to that haven of human decency and democracy Qatar. Make of that what you will as the British courts ponder the same issue.
Whilst no business can operate loss making activities, banks were founded on being an integral part of the communities they served.
They might argue that online banking has replaced many of the branch functions but, when this fails, you realise how utterly crap centralised service levels are. Stripped of experience, local knowledge and, quite often, basic product knowledge the everyday banking experience is often appalling.
The big shots sat in their pristine Canary Wharf cages do not give a stuff, knowing they are all as bad as the rest and that you and I are without choice.
Life as we now know it, is a race to the bottom.
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