Ah yes, walking. It’s good exercise and apparently great for our mental health—at least, that’s what we’re told. Personally, I quite enjoy going for long walks... just not on the beach. Once I’ve braved the swarms of insects and bees dive-bombing me at every opportunity—and after the runny eyes and sniffly nose have settled—I do enjoy a brisk stroll.
There’s something comforting about popping on your favourite slightly wonky sunglasses (which I may or may not have squished in my bag), throwing on a comfy cardi—when it's a little chilly—and getting myself out of the house.
I’m lucky enough to live near a canal, full of brightly coloured narrowboats and wildlife. The pathway is always buzzing with life, so there’s usually someone to awkwardly nod at and say hello to from a few paces away. The path’s recently been refurbished, so the days of muddy edges and rogue tree roots ready to trip you up are thankfully behind us.
But what makes this part of the world truly special is the peace. Not the sterile hush of an office or a doctor’s waiting room. Not the silent tension of a train carriage where everyone avoids eye contact. No—nature has its own kind of quiet. A soft, sensitive stillness that gently wraps around you.
I love watching swans and ducks glide effortlessly through the water—well, it looks effortless anyway. There’s nothing better than hearing the soft chirping of birds as they natter away, blissfully unbothered by human presence. Sometimes, they even stop and look at you. I live for those moments when you pause to watch them, and they tilt their heads, just as curious about you as you are about them. And those little duckling families? Adorable. Watching them try to keep up with their parents, wide-eyed and wobbly, adorable.
Then, of course, there are the walks with friends. I often head out with a friend and her two lively dogs. It’s always an experience. One pup is a ball of energy, ready to sprint off at full speed the moment you blink. The other prefers a slow-and-steady approach, plodding along and plonking himself down whenever he’s had enough. I’ve also become well-acquainted with the sensation of being walked through, whether I’m ready or not. But they’re cute, so I let them off.
I also like walking around my neighbourhood—as weird as that might sound. It’s nice to see how people are growing their own little homes. There’s something lovely about spotting a retired lady working away in her garden, then seeing all her hard work pay off weeks later when the flowers are in full bloom. Or watching a carefully built extension finally wrap up, adding a bit more space and life to a family home.
It’s also comforting to see familiar faces from time to time. Now, I’m not some curtain-twitcher peering into windows, I promise. And please, stop pointing at the houses we walk past—it makes it very obvious! But it is nice to see how things change with the seasons, or how new neighbours can quietly transform a place over time.
So, time for a walk.
Sincerely,
Catherine
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