Last Sunday or maybe the Sunday before, I woke to a gloriously sunny day and fancied walking and taking photos. I could have walked round the village, as I often do, as I’m very lucky to live in such a nice place.
Last year, or maybe the year before, I used to regularly walk into Beverley through the Westwood. In fact, I used to walk miles, just walking, taking photos and very happy. But of late, that venture has become a tad more difficult. I remember once having to give up half way and simply wait for ages for the village bus to pick me up. But today was Sunday. No village buses as a back up. Then I spoke to Sarah and asked if she was around and luckily it was her day off. So it was decided that I would set off, Sarah would track me, and if it became too much I could txt Sarah to pick me up – perfect😊
And so it was that I set off with a spring in my wobble. Passing by the village pond
and set off along the road leading out of the village. Passing one of the beautiful Magnolias in full bloom.
The footpath out of the village that also runs alongside the Westwood is also a cycle track. Many others out for a stroll, happy dogs by their side, bid me hello with a friendly smile. Cyclists passed, bells ringing behind me to alert me of their presence, shouting hello as they sped passed.
One chappie cyclist did just this, but then suddenly stopped a few yards ahead of me and wheeled his bike back in my direction…….
“Are you Wendy Mitchell?”
😳 ‘Errr, yes”
“I’ve read your book, it was wonderful. I recognised your orange coat and haversack from a photo I saw somewhere and just had to stop and say hello”
How random and kind was that! He then cycled off with a wave and goodbye..☺️
More Sunday morning strollers out in the sunshine exchanged a smile as I headed for the Westwood, my steps becoming less sprightly, the rhythm of my stick becoming slower. I hadn’t realised how cold the wind was and my hands were turning to blocks of ice, the deceptive sun giving out false signals of warmth.
I finally turned the corner and the Westwood came into view. I was able to stop for a breather and snap my favourite view to the left
And then the Minster in the distance to the right
It’s the road I trundle along in the taxi heading for the station and an early morning sunrise always looks wonderful over to the right of the Westwood and an even more spectacular sunset behind the folly which I rarely see. It’s such a peaceful place, where walkers stroll and happy dogs are let off leads to roam and play.
This was the part of the walk I really wanted to do, my favourite views. I’d stopped to take the photos and now my legs really weren’t that keen on continuing. But I was determined to complete the trundle into town. If this was to be my last full walk here, I was going to finish it.
My sprightly step from the start had now turned into the familiar shuffle of tiredness. The town cows were still in their winter shelter otherwise they would have distracted me on my shuffle through to the end of the Westwood. But they were still to make an appearance so I had to concentrate on my destination, admiring the gardens on the outskirts of town.
I was heading for the station, picking up booked tickets for a future trundle and then to Sarahs for a cuppa tea and collapse on her sofa.
I finally made it and the smiling faces of pansys in the flower troughs in the station walk were a welcome sight.
Who knows if that was the last walk into town…..at least I had a plan B…….uncharacteristicly exhausted after such a short walk, but I did it, and if it isn’t ‘the last’….well that will be a bonus…..