Shoulder, Walking, Chit-chat
Our on the wily, windy moors… Sorry, that’s a Kate Bush song. I was out on the wild and (not too) windy hillside on Sunday afternoon. A shoulder injury forced me to stop writing for a day, and I have to take it easy, so a walk was a good alternative – thinking time with music on my headphones. Ah well, gives me time to plot another story about… something. A bit of Voltaren gel (I call it Voldemort) and some ant-inflams will sort it out before too long, it’s only a mild RSI. Here are a few pictures I took. I was wearing my new walking boots, so I was walking-in and walking in my walking boots. That’s a lot of walking. Well, three miles along the donkey track from Horio to Xissos and then back down the road.
I’m heading that way.
Where it looks like either the side of the road is being rebuilt, or a new slip road is being put in. We’ll find out in time. I saw the usual Sunday afternoon activities: ravens wheeling round above me (a Chris De Burg lyric, anyone know the song? (I do)), goats on the hillside, a succession of people on motorbikes and in cars and vans going up and down, waving, tooting horns and calling ‘Yasou!’ as they passed, and a couple of countryside walkers on their way back to the village. Very pleasant and three miles in one hour.
Top of the path from Horio.
Back home, a shower and down to the bar for a frappe. By the time I photographed it, the smile had sunk a little, but it’s always a smile-maker when your husband makes you a frappe.
Tonight (Monday) we’re going out to dinner with a friend for her birthday. It will be my first visit to Pandelis in Yialos. First!? Yes, I know, but we don’t often eat out downtown in the evenings, preferring to be home and asleep by half-nine, up early and so on. We’re are looking forward to it. Also, if we have a glass of wine, it will be our first in a week. A friend of mine overseas (Mr Box, for those who followed the summer London trip) did a drink-free September, apart from one day, so I am trying to emulate him. Thus I am allowed one day off in 30 (only 23 left to go). I am not emulating him too much though, seeing as how he goes swimming twice per week, plays football and has been doing a ‘boot camp’ regime at 6 in the morning three days a week of late. Yeah, well, you can put that in your gym bag and keep it there. I am 55 after all. (He’s 53, so he has the advantage.) Anyway, didn’t mean to bore you. Am getting on with my day now, writing by hand until the shoulder behaves, and plotting rather than typing.
A bootiful view.
Share on Facebook