On a cold and frosty morning!

It has to be admitted (by me) that, as the seasons go from warm to cold, dry to damp, clear to misty etc, etc., I become, I’m afraid to say - ‘A fair weather walker!’

Let’s face it, if it wasn’t for a certain pal of mine, there’d be no way this aged codger could be espied, trundling about the ancient forest residing beside Lowtown.

Well I say, there are such folk as fair weather golfers, and others that only train outside…weather permitting. This is all rather ‘weedy’ to a young chap, whose impervious to rain fur, means he cannot understand why the old poop isn’t as excited as him, as we sally forth on a gentle stroll.

I cut a gloomy figure as we rest briefly at the top of the slope, and I get a second, third and fourth wind!  (Think of the picture of Eyeore when he losses his tail.)  The lad chooses to ignore my grumpy demeanour, and remains as sunny as ever.

‘Now old grouser, aren’t you pleased we made the effort?’

A number of words are flitting around my mind, not one of them is ‘pleased.’  I’m now looking up into the forest, and wondering if I have it in me to make the attempt of the ‘hill.’
Edmund Hilary and his ‘Because it’s there’ wanders into my mind, and certainly the ‘Sherpa Tenzing’ beside me is definitely up for it!
I decide to stall, and we turn left and wander down the forest edge, and towards the pond where the ducks reside!

Bing doesn’t complain, he accepts my limitations today, and is just happy to be out and about.
We start to circumnavigate the pond and about halfway around, we strike off deeper into the forest, and over a small bridge. Here in summer months we actually saw a kingfisher flitting about the brook side, now however, it’s all a little gloomy, muddy and damp.

Bing loves it!

Such enthusiasm deserves more than an old poop in tow!  We trickle on, and slowly the ground starts to rise, beckoning us upwards. I start trying to plot a path that will lead us slowly up.
The lad, oblivious of my efforts (I think) sits patiently now and then as the old huffer puffs and wheezes. This extraordinary business is now part and parcel of how we take the air.

The fleet footed hound trots off and I make another effort to tag along.

Fortunately the gloomy morning suddenly brightens, and as we near the top, the sun streams through the trees and we pause and enjoy the sudden warmth.

‘There you are guv, it’s luvverly up here.’

I can’t disagree, he’s right.  Having managed to finally get here, the familiar trees and patch of tufty grass, frost now gone, is a pleasant space and ideal for a sit down and proper breather!

The statement ‘it’s all downhill from here’ in this case is double edged, for the prospect of a gentle ‘decline’ from up here, is I guess..............

……………not so bad.