Today I decided to go for a walk around Glyn Ceriog, which is a beautiful rural area nearish where I live. The aim of today is to feel the wind on my face, to expand my lungs, to see nature. It being a fair distance away, was a perfect opportunity for driving practice. However, I did shred both my mother's nerves when driving on the edge of very narrow (well, quite) roads with very steep drops (my brother seemed to find the whole incident extremely amusing). But I am alive, and that is the most important fact (except my hands still have a slightly claw-like quality as if they are still gripping the steering wheel for dear life).
Anyway, we decided to go up a massive hill (which, I might add, was one of those never-ending ones with 'false crests' - we got to the 'top' no less than four times. I may have been several hundred feet behind my Army Captain brother, but the important thing is not that I finished, not when I finished, right!? My only saving grace is that there were no other keen walkers around to see my red face and ungainly stagger on ascent of the hill.
I took a few photos on my crappy phone camera, the far above being my mother's truly amazing walking outfit (on her head is a big woollen headband on which is a flower, if you were wondering), replete with massive socks tucked into her walking boots. And just above, well, that's a tree.
This blog post is courtesy of several lemon and ginger teas and this song:
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