A (12 Mile) Walk in the Woods

So, today was the day Terry and I had set aside to try to walk 12 miles in one day.

“Hey! I know! Let’s try and walk 12 miles in one day!” said Terry.

“You know? That sounds kinda crap,” said I. “It’s like – it’ll be rubbish? And also: we won’t even enjoy it.”

“Well, we’re not supposed to enjoy it,” said Terry, proving in one fell swoop that our marriage? Is doomed. “We’ll do it just so we can say we did it!”

“GOD! said I.

“Walk?” said Rubin? “WALK?!”

There was one big problem, though, with Terry’s plan. I mean, other than the fact that he wanted to walk 12 miles in one day, obviously. The problem? Well, there’s nothing I hate more than being badly dressed. This is unfortunate, because I? Am almost always badly dressed. I am never more badly dressed, though, than when I go walking in the countryside, and the reason for this is – stiletto heels. See, I love ‘em. I am almost never without a good pair of 4 inch heels. For the most part, this predilection for 4 inch heels has served me well in life. When I go walking in the woods, though? Not so much, really. In fact, when I go walking in the woods, even I am forced to concede that stiletto heels are not really the best choice of footwear. (Don’t think I haven’t tried though, because I totally have. I’m no quitter, me). So I wear trainers. GOD. I know! I hate trainers, even more so because all of my jeans are cut for someone four inches taller than I am, so when I wear my jeans, I’m forced to roll ‘em up, like some crazy bag lady. I totally hate this, but hey! We were going for a walk in the woods, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I know!” I thought last night, as we having dinner with my parents. “I will get my old riding boots out of my dad’s garage and wear them with my skinny jeans! I will be both stylish and dry! And also: when people see me, they will assume I am some horsey girl, on her way to ride some horse, in the country!” This last thought quite appealed as I was one of those kids who, up until the age of sixteen thirteen, had a bedroom papered with pictures of ponies, and rosettes. (OK, I had two rosettes, but I won them fair and square, OK?)

“Dad, when you get a minute, could you get my riding boots out of the garage?” I said.

“Well, it’ll take me about seventeen hours to find them,” grumbled my dad, who has not only carpeted his garage, but has also used it store everything he has ever owned IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE, plus everything my mum and I have ever tried to throw out. Channel 4 will probably try to make a documentary about him soon. Despite this, he was back in under 5  minutes (he runs a tight ship, my dad) with the most filthy, disgusting pair of riding boots I have ever seen in my life, replete with ten-year-old horse dung and mud. So dad? If you’re reading this? I totally see now why you always told me to clean my riding boots before I put them away. I see that now. You win.

Anyway, this morning we got up early, I donned the skinny jeans and the skanky riding boots, and off we went.


This was the first stage of our walk. Isn’t it pretty? Say it is pretty. This part of the woods always makes me think of Lord of the Rings, except there are no hobbits, no elves, no orcs, no wizards, and, actually? It’s not really like Lord of the Rings at all, is it?


The next part of our walk, complete with Terry and Rubin.
(Note: we did not make Rubin walk 12 miles. We are stupid people, but we are not BAD people, y’know?)


That sheep in the middle? Totally stared at me THE WHOLE TIME we were walking past it. WHY?


The sky was all dramatic.


And there were some trees.


And a field.


Also: a bridge


And some more freakin’ sheep. WHY?


In my skinny jeans and riding boots combo, this horse thought I was ready to just jump on his back and ride into the sunset…

So, that was our walk. On the second leg of it, I noticed that all the people we passed would nod and smile and Terry and then completely blank me. At first I was totally offended by this (I mean, OK, I looked like crap, but even so, I don’t think I deserved to be shunned by society), and then I realised that, although the sun had long since set, I was still wearing my sunglasses, so they probably thought I was BLIND or something. GOD, people are rude to the blind, aren’t they? (And also to the badly dressed, I fear).

Anyway, seeing as, according to Terry, the whole point of our walk was to allow us to say we did it, I would just like to say: people, we did it. We walked 12 miles in one day. And I walked 12 miles in riding boots, skinny jeans and sunglasses. GOD. Never do that, OK? Only stupid people do that. Still, we seen some nice sheep…