Rambling Alone and with the Ramblers in Andalucia

I wonder, just occasionally, when I see the ramblers with their backpacks and officious sticks whether I should join them.

Fortunately it´s on the way back from church and I´ve a car load of hungry males wanting feeding yet again, the caterpillar of rambling OAP lookers only hangs heavy for half a minute.

I prefer my walks from the doorstep, the mornings when I take the ancient trainers onto the patio to avail myself of them only to find an enormous hinderance from my walking partner.

It appears that Jimmy my not-very-intelligent-but-adorably-mad dog knows what those particular items of footwear mean. I´ve had to resort to putting them on indoors as it´s better for the temper control alarm and far quicker.

Rambling alone or with a nutty excitable dog I´ve decided is my thing. I relish the silence, the bird song, the non-expectancy of anyone on me.

Being able to sit, breathe, think, pray and nothing except Jimmy can disturb me. What joy to be childless, husbandless, pupil-free, phone-free and with the sun beating down.