midwife's muse

A routine development

Thursday nights are my night. For years now Hubby has abandoned me on a Thursday. It started when he used to go to a fitness class, gradually he would be out for longer and longer, the class would last an hour, he would be in the pub for 2 hours afterwards, so I started calling it fatness. Eventually, all the blokes who went to 'fatness' developed ailments, bad knees, frozen shoulders and so the class was given up and only the pub remained. Initially, in lieu of exercise, they would walk through the fields to a pub in a neighbouring village, but after a few falls on the return journey a local pub was adopted as their watering hole. In the last year I have decided on my own 'fitness' scheme. It fits in well with Hubby's Thursday night jaunt cos what I do is 'power' walk up to the pub to meet him. I set off at ten to eleven, cover of darkness, whatever the weather, and walk briskly towards the pub utilising as many muscles as I can. It's wonderful. There's no one about to see my strange gait, and I feel quite saintly by the time I meet up with Hubby. I never go into the pub, I'm not dressed for socialising, I just march around the general vicinity until I see a tall lanky figure and then I fall in beside him and trot home. I have to trot because he is a foot taller than me, and so I have to take two steps to his one. I must look a strange figure on my once a week fitness attempt but I love the freedom. It is freedom. Quiet streets, no one chatting to me, not on my way to do anything in particular, just walking. One night when my sister  came round and we were walking back from the Indian I told her about my walk. She was worried, wandering the streets in the dark, alone. Perhaps I'm delusional but I feel safe.

5.8.04 23:08