Anyone who’s been married as long as I have knows it’s not always a walk in the park. In fact, sometimes you can’t even get to the park because your other half is driving you crazy over something ridiculous and all you want to do is stand outside the front door and scream. And anyone who knows the husband and me also knows that we’ve got about as much in common as Nigel Farage and Jeremy Corbyn. Although that’s probably the wrong analogy as one of the things we do have in common is our political persuasion. The other is our sense of humour. Long live laughter in the Reidy household – it’s the glue that holds us together.
When the husband announces grandly that he’s taking you on a Magical Mystery Tour you’re never quite sure what’s coming. The best bet is to smile enthusiastically and prepare yourself for the worst. Anything better than that is a bonus.
So, today we set off from our cosy abode for a walk that was supposed to take two hours. Dave marched ahead. I followed behind, taking photos and, in the absence of a map, checking directions on my phone. We spent most of the walk like that, both quite happy in our own little worlds. Occasionally, I caught up with him, occasionally he slowed down and waited, but for the most part, we walked alone. Until we got to styles where he thought it would be funny to ‘help’ me over. From behind.
The husband doesn’t have a good track record for organising walks so when we had to cross a field that contained a bull I wasn’t surprised. Luckily there was no sign of it and we reached the other side unscathed, no thanks to Dave chasing me and pretending to spot a charging beast.
We were looking forward to a stop halfway for food and drink. The only pub in the village was our destination. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. We stood and stared in disbelief at the sign in the window “Closed for Refurbishment.” Never mind, the information with the walk informed us there was also a Post Office next door where snacks could be purchased. Not only was the PO closed, it was empty and up for sale.
Hungry and thirsty we plodded on, and finally found our way back to the start by Devil’s Bridge. My phone told me we’d done 10km in three and a half hours. The husband is apparently an expert in judging mileage and was adamant we’d only done 7km. I made a note to let the app designers know they’ve got it all wrong. We loped to the Sun Inn, beer for Dave, coffee and a salad for me.
We chatted about the day (well, mainly I chatted and Dave pretended to listen, whilst reading the paper and trying to make a bet on his phone). We (I) decided it had been a great day – warm and sunny, with lovely views, gambolling lambs and, for me, the sight of Dave’s back disappearing over the hills. I scrolled through Facebook and looked through my pictures. Dave ordered another beer and chatted to the barman about today’s races.
We might not have a lot in common but we’ve laughed (and cried) our way through forty odd years, and we’re not going to stop now.
Magical Mystery Tours? Bring them on!