A Sunday Walk and some annoying things

I was up to 2 a.m. watching a pretty bad Kung Fu movie, then wondered why I'd spent valuable sleeping hours doing it. So waking up slightly later in the morning I decided to go for a nice long Sunday walk as seems to be the normal. Part of the route takes me through a park with a lake in the middle of it, this is enjoyable. Scenically it is good to see trees and grass, these are things which are relaxing. The sun was out and it was a great day. A few weeks ago when I walked round the lake there was a thick green water weed in it. The ducks didn't seem to think much of it and some how struggled through it. It's like nature's rubbish, as I guess all weeds are but nature doesn't discriminate. It is humans who see these things as weeds. Unless of course they have been imported from another country so are actually alien species. Such as Africanised honey bees, large Chinese crayfish in central London's Serpentine and not to forget the occasional mosquito. The mozzys are having a problem establishing themselves because of European winters but it doesn't stop them from trying to get a foot in the door so to say. A very tiny foot. Funny though how the Scottish Midggy seems to survive the winter.  At the point I hit this lake I've walked about three miles so may sit down on a seat somewhere for a short rest my walking pace kind of slows down as well. It is so pleasant walking on the footpath when there are few people around. I like the quite and the nature thing. On this walk though as somebody was walking a little faster and I could hear the voice of a man a distance behind me. It was annoying because I could now be walking for half a mile with this Dickhead and his loud voice niggling at me. There was no choice but to speed up and try to get out of ear shot of him.

He was with a woman, possibly his partner and he was a complete Dick. On account of being an individual who talked loudly in an open air park, can there really be a need for such twats in this world? I expect he's the type who would tell you things you already knew in a desperate effort to get attention. He probably loves the sound of his own voice, and practices talking with gusto every night, the neighbours had their walls soundproofed but then wear additional ear plugs at night as the man snores. It's one of those rattling noises and at such a pitch it can go through sound proofing and be like repetitive broken machine. Part broken because if it was fully broken it would make no noise at all. The man doesn't care about his volume, he just is what is he is, loud. A bit like American's can be when they are on holiday and take on an attitude like they own everything. I'm sure they don't mean to be like this, it's just the way the come across. Loud as well. Maybe the man has an American family, which would account for the genetic loud gene. Mind it's not just American's who are loud, there are shall I say other ethnic groupings who have a tendency to raise their voice and speak loudly. These are personal observations.

On the return walk, I walk over a heath. It is a beautiful patch of grass land. Many people use it for sports and social activities. However, today I noticed how it was littered with plastic bottles and empty cans of soft drinks. It seems not only does nature litter the place, humans do a pretty good job of bringing rubbish to pleasant places as well. I wondered if the plastic bottles were picked up by rubbish collectors for the heath. I'd never seen them around but there are strategically placed bins around the place. Which makes it worse to some extent. Why do we litter when it would be just as easy to take the litter and put it in a bin. If the rubbish isn't picked up it would not take too long for the next set of park users to get a little pissed off how the place was being abused. I must admit to feeling this way. Here certainly is a reason to have park inspectors with legal rights to fine litter louts. It is a shame, but maybe I am being a killjoy for saying such things, a fuddyduddy, and old grumpy man. Just to say though, I put my plastic bottle in my back slung over my shoulder, and considered although it is rubbish it is my rubbish and no one elses to clear up.

I got home after three hours of walking and felt completely knackered. Well and truly tired out. It's always the shoes, I just don't have a proper pair of shoes which feel comfortable enough walking miles in so my feet get very tired and sore. I'll have to do some research on what footwear to put on. Maybe see if there's something with spikes. So I could jab plastic bottles pick them up and put them in the bin. Or alternatively if I get into a fight with a loud mouthed Dickhead they'd also be a defensive weapon. Well, if one thing is sure to get me arrested that would be it and all because of a Sunday walk and the desire for some peace and quiet.

A walk and a ukulele help in stress busting

Sometimes peace and quiet is a necessity, especially when noise becomes and assault on the senses, and if it's not noise it's a place, other people, or a situation which is anathema. Like this evening.  I got back home after work and am greeted by the TV and some brain numbing, depressive, mind sapping soap was blaring out. An urge came over me to stick a foot through the telly, which meant I had to get out of the house. After a change as quick as Superman in a telephone box, coat was on, earphones plugged into phone and I was off. Like a greyhound, out of the trap and the bunny rabbit had just passed him. I needed badly to get away, and it felt bloody good. It's being in a stressful environment which does it. I believe the mind has to rest, the same happens when cooped up too long in a house and cabin fever gets to you. The need to get out of the house is as great as the need to escape a prison environment.  I got back to the house about an hour and twenty minutes later. Now I just feel tired. Walking is a good exercise, an underestimated exercise. It's exercise but at the same time it doesn't strain, but of course whatever route you take it has to be varied, up hills, down hills, over grass, it's got to give you something to see along the way and points which can mark milestones, without actually being real milestones. I guess it must of been just over two miles, taking into account the time, and the pace and some parts were slightly challenging.

As time is now late it means I've missed the opportunity to play Harvey (ukulele). Harvey also brings me relaxation even though I'm still learning to play him.  He rings out lovely sounds and I'm learning about music every time I pick him up. My teacher is You-tube, it's amazing what you can find on there. It's approaching 7 months since I've been practising and although I've missed out the odd day I do get to pick up Harvey for a few hours each week.  Presently I'm trying to get the hang of a few barre chords. These are chords where more than one string is held down by one finger. When using the finger tip to depress a single string it is as easy but even just doing two strings it can become more difficult. If not done just right plucking the string will make it sound dampened and it'll not ring out correctly. When a bunch of chords are played together in the right sequence you've suddenly got a little song going and it's marvellous. Singing and timing come next and they are a lot harder to do than I'd thought but I think there is a glimmer of hope even in this field. I'm sure there is.

In doing a search on you tube I came across a ukulele playing comedian. Listening to a couple of her songs I didn't particularly think they were that great, her playing the uke was OK but not great either and it has given me a thought about giving it a go. I don't think it can be too difficult throwing a few words together which would be funny, getting them to rhyme and sing along with a tune would be more difficult though.  So fifty percent is a good start. This may just be another outlet for me, one which brings together two things of interest.  I just hope they don't curdle. However if they do then I suppose Harvey could be useful in turning the TV off, even if he'd only get to do it once and with a little luck the TV might not make much sound afterwards as well.

Having a walk and getting sore feet

The mornings are bright, sunlight shines through the curtains and it wakes me up. Even if I don't want to wake up I have little choice in the matter. This as well as the pigeons in the roof clattering the tiles on their way out. I thought it was later, but it was just after 6 a.m. and I was up. My room was hot as well. It must be the start of real summer. So hot I was just sleeping ontop with no covers. Trying to get back to sleep was useless so I got up, had some brekky and then decided to hit the road's for a long walk spending about four hours. With a couple of little sit down stops on the way. Damn my feet killed me. If you go walking get proper walking shoes, I can feel the pain now. The sun caught me and my arms are red as well. Burnt arms, tired feet and unable to sleep. The last days of June 2013 disappear. As they do we get closer to Christmas. Which is another thought in itself. One I'd rather not think about.

While out I was amazed at the number of joggers there were. It seems going for a Sunday run is the in thing nowadays. They are of all different ages, even some quite older women. I saw one woman who must of had her husband with her. Except he was not running. He sat on his cycle and kept pace with her. She might not of been going fast but it seems to me to be a lazy thing to do. I could never see Sparkling going for a run, but she'd follow me if she was not wobbly on the bike. I'd be the one doing the hard graft and if we had a hill to go up she'd make me push the bike, probably with her on it. All of a sudden it seem like a bad idea. I must admit though watching all those people out and running made me think back to the time I was a few stone lighter and running myself. I don't think there was anyone today who would of been trouble to beat in a race. I did see one young man, dressed up in fancy running gear and I thought he was a snob. I so wanted to run like a greyhound and show him. Pitty I'm a short fat middle aged man. I'm getting on and it is so much easier not to run but walk, catch a bus or get on a train.

One things for sure, I can't eat chocolate as much as I used to without the consequences. Maybe this I know have a reason to find a pair of trainers. No, I'd rather do it to wipe the smile of arrogant shites thinking they are fit. I rub my jelly like belly and realise even with the greatest will in the world some realities have to be overcome.  Tomorrow, I'll probably get on the train again as well.

A Sunday exercise

I don't know what it is nowadays but each Sunday I find myself heading out for a walk. It is the most exercise I get all week long and I enjoy it.  Sometimes I see people who I have seen the week before also out on their exercise stint.  I walk up a hill through the woods, then cross a road and around a heath.  Twice round the heath and then head back home.  Last week the ground was still damp but today it has been sunny.  It wasn't too hot either, and as I walked through the wooded areas there was a nice cool chill from the shade.  I looked out for the elderly sikh man who raises his hand to say hello, but he wasn't out today.  There also seemed to be some kind of event happening at the heath as temporary steal fencing was erected cording off a large area.  Again this is a pet hate of mine, especially when people are allowed to restrict access to a normally public place.  Like, this is my zone, so don't you come in it, even though the area belongs to everyone, i'm going to build a wall and you can stay on the other side, so there.  I carried on walking around the monstrous obstruction wondering what was going on there and this group held something personal against me.  Yep the little paranoia head was speaking.  It wasn't just me who didn't have an invite to behind the steal cage most other people didn't either.  But you just can't help getting the you are not welcome feeling.  What is the world coming to?

I miss Sparkling Eyes and wished I could of given her a hug today.  She'll be at work all day and this is my day off.  It seems the only jobs nowadays are in the service sector and they are no good for private life.  Just as Layabout Lad has to work at the weekend as well.  People who attend the needs of other people give up a lot in their life.  Giving their opinion freely is one aspect of it.  Having to put up with bad manners and harassment is another.  I want to see her and don't know how long it will be before I get a chance again.  For the next two and a half months London will be ruled by the Olympics and this goes for anyone who works here as well.  If you want to get out of London, or go anywhere in London traffic is going to be worse than it has ever been before.  It will be a very difficult time.  It seems we are already being mocked by the French.  It's of no surprise to find the private security firm who were to provide all the Olympic security have been incompetent.  It's lucky we have an army on call, even if they have come back from doing a tour of some war torn country just to babysit an Olympic park.

The Olympics should of been scaled down, the whole thing.  We could of done it with dice, paper games boards and little counters to move around.  It would of been a lot cheaper, had little to no effect on traffic and could of been held in one large venue.  Like a local village hall.  The javelin could be throw the tooth pick, high jump replace with hop,skip and jump, swimming with who can splash the most in a bath?  With a little ingenuity most of the events could of be metamorphosed into their second cousin not quite the same but interesting.  The sponsors wouldn't of been able to control it either, and the board game could be sold on afterwards to make additional funds available to a country suffering from yet another recession.  It's not double dip but more of quadruple dip recession.  Every little bit of additional revenues stream could help.  They could of even reduced the Olympic flame to a special Olympic match box, then everyone could light up their little Olympic candles at home, just to get a bit more atmosphere.  The opening and closing ceremonies would be repeated millions of times all over the world and different each time.  The outcome of who won the most medals would also vary.  Unfortunately there could be no record of it.  The Olympics would be an unrecorded one but enjoyed in homes everywhere.  Shame we got the proper and original version and not a cut down paper one.

Come to think of it I should probably get out for another walk.  It's all a product of being stuck in the same position for a long time.  No wonder people are putting up fences all over the place.