Roving

Went for another urban ramble today. While this feels like a new development - the sudden impulse to just go outside, pick a direction and just walk, and see what's out there - it's also something that I remember doing, when the mood strikes me, quite often over the years.

For example, last Sunday, it was a nice day, mild, the snow had finally cleared and the sun was out. I thought, 'why not find out just exactly what that mysterious building, up there on the hill on the far side of the railway line, that looms down between the branches of the tree outside my bedroom window, actually is?' So I pulled on my favorite exploring shoes (DMs, obviously) and went for a looksee. Lo and behold, a residential home. And a lovely view.

At this point, the freshness of the day had sort of leaked into me, so I went a bit further, across Dyke road and into the suburban badlands behind Hove. Nothing much, just life going on quietly behind privet hedges.

Then, down the Drive, where I stumble upon a brilliant, ludicrous antiques and garden sculpture shop that was like a stone menagerie complete with goats, giraffes, frogs, gnomes, Buddhas, and piles of rusting wrought iron furniture.

Then, Hove high street, and, inevitably, the beach. Where I bumped into Keith and Rob, who I know from my parents' village in Leicestershire, from where they've recently relocated. What a coincidence. Back along the Seafront, taking in the air, kids and dogs and families and couples crowding the promenade, hearing a clip-clop, clip-clop sound behind, then being suddenly, hilariously overtaken by two unicyclists one of whom was banging two coconut halves together, a la Monty Python.

And then, gradually, by way of that New Agey shop in the North Laine that frankly reeks of incense and I normally avoid but they have a good Buddhist books section, home. OK, I had stuff I should have been doing and it frankly knackered me out for the rest of the day, but I thought, 'That was quite fun...'

So this time I went North, up Preston Drove. Again nothing and everything was happening. A gang of skateboarders, shuffling around for somewhere to air their skills. A cement mixer chewing over in front of a half completed house decked in scaffold. Cars backing out, florists, corner shops. Someone I vaguely know, out for a jog. The subtle changes in perspective as the road arcs up and round, suddenly staring down a road to have all of Brighton laid out beneath you, the sea a shimmer in the distance. A park, and a group of teenagers holding dark conversations ('why'd you beat up that guy?'). A tennis match. A feeling that I've been here before, at night, lost on my bike over a year ago. A book shop, and books. Uh-oh...

Actually it was that 'History of Walking' book, mentioned in a previous post, that's been egging me on in these weekend expeditions (perfect choice of word that). Although I would say its more a sort of 'chiming in with' an existing impulse to have a wander that I've got more time to indulge at the moment. Going out, just for its own sake, allowing oneself to be open to the world and participating in its changes, feeling the landscape cradling your feet, feels good.