The doctor has decided I need to exercise more and suggested I walk. This filled me with dismay as I recalled the last time this happened.                                   

While we lived in the rental house on the hill after the bushfires, and being inspired by sunlight on a nice morning, I decided to go for a walk…

I intended to go just to the corner and back… but I’d often wondered what was behind the lovely house on the corner, so turned the corner and continued.

I looked at some lovely gardens – this is a nice part of the town – and turned right into the next street… I should have turned back but true to my usual form I didn’t.

Anyway, then I wondered which stables were behind the trees at our back fence… so I walked along and found hairy trotters fetlock deep in mud… but then thought oh well, I am half way, I will just go round and come in the other end of our street.

WRONG. I found that street curved round to the back of the racetrack, adding another half mile before I could get back to our street. Oh well, a gentle stroll wouldn’t hurt (fool). I passed more nice gardens and a cocky in an aviary that kept calling “hello” in seductive tones. By this time I was finding I was aerobically ok, but my hips were screaming.

I lent on someone’s front fence for a bit of a rest while thinking it’s ok, our street was downhill from this end… I struggled on – paused for another rest while watching some fool trying to flail his way out of deep trees on the golf course… turned into our street… damn. Of course the first bit was up hill. Oh well. I  leaned on the occasional rubbish bin to ease the hips. If anyone had come out they would think I was stealing their bottles.

I admired the beautiful old houses along the street, one glorious spring garden, a couple of TFBV looking totally out of place, and about six houses from home I could hear the confounded loudest clock alarm in the universe going off… in our house.

From six houses away.

It’s a wonder the neighbours hadn’t taken up a petition for its removal. My goodness I’d have signed it myself!

The stairs to the front door of that house were steep, and I needed the handrail to help me up… I threw open the door, ran to the alarm clock and slammed it off…. blessed silence. Tammy the mini foxie appeared from under the doona where she had no doubt been covering her little ears.

I headed for a cool drink, a book and a nana nap in the sun in a chair on the back verandah thinking – next time Fran – think first…  It’s time the impulsiveness took a rest.