Today me and Mrs Woofy decided to go on a different walk. Not that there is anything wrong with the old walks but I did have a bit of a hidden agenda that I didn’t share with the dog.
The plan was to go and do a sneaky recce of a house I’ve seen that I really like the look of. It’s tucked away in some woods and surrounded by fields – but also within 300 yards of a bus route, not that I ever catch a bus, but you never know when you might want to. ‘Close to all local amenities’, I think they call it.
Mrs Woofy was a bit surprised when she jumped into the back of my car as is her normal habit while I put my walking boots on, only to have to jump straight back out again without going anywhere. I could see the confusion on her face as we set off.
On our way there I noticed a couple of young men looking totally out of place as they weren’t wearing track suits or drinking cans of Stella. ‘Must be Mormons or totally lost.’ I thought to myself as we crossed the road. Sure enough. “Hello, can we speak with you about the word of God?”
Well, I’m not the best person to talk to about Mormonism (mormonism – is that a word?) due to my sister being totally misled by them a few years ago and ending up very hurt, upset and without any faith in God or human nature. While I appreciate that not all Mormons operate by misleading people into joining them it has no doubt tainted my view of them.
“You’ll have to walk while you talk then or the dog will go nuts.” Thinking they’d take the easier option of talking to the old woman close by.
Refer to paragraph 3: ” I put my walking boots on.” When I have my walking boots on I don’t tend to hang about. I set off at my usual rapid pace with one chap almost jogging at my side and the other following breathlessly behind as they attempted to spread the word. It does lose a certain amount of gravitas when it’s delivered in a breathless gasp and it did make me smile a bit. Aren’t I mean? I could have slowed down but no one ever said the life of a missionary was easy and I did at least give them the time of day which is a lot more polite than anything my sister would have given them.
In truth, I enjoyed our conversation, it was thought provoking and challenging and I was almost sad when we reached the turnoff where no man in a smart suit and polished shoes wants to tread. Mrs Woofy, however was just glad to be off her lead at looked at me as if to say,’ about bloody time,’ before dashing off for a swim in the stream.
The Mormons went on their way in search of a new conversation. I went for a wet, muddy and slippery walk, laughing at the dog’s antics as she cavorted around in the water.
The house, as much as I could see through the trees, looks luuuverley, well worth a closer look, I reckon.
On our way back from our walk we passed a corner shop. Glancing up, as you do, not really paying any attention, my interest was captured by a woman as she left the store. She was about 40 years old, painfully thin and had obviously fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Long thin, greasy hair blew round her face which had been ravaged by the smoke of 50,00 cigarettes. The thin fabric of her pink pyjamas billowed in the cold breeze…….the thin fabric of WHAT? Did my eyes deceive me?
Taking a closer look, not easy as she really wasn’t a pretty sight, I confirmed what I initially thought. Yup, those are definitely pink pyjamas and to complete the ensemble, a pair of trainers. Tsk. Honestly. If you’re going to wear pink pyjamas in the street, at least accessorise them properly. She strolled up the street, lighting her 50,001st cigarette with not a care in the world.
You’ve got to be pretty damn desperate for a ciggie if you’re prepared to walk the streets in your pj’s, or maybe it’s a fashion statement, or maybe she just doesn’t give a monkey’s. Maybe there’s a lot to be learned from that.
You don’t half see life when you walk the dog through the streets rather than on the moors. I think I’ll be going back to my original route immediately. I can’t cope with all the excitement.