Today I travelled to Cherhill Down . . . and yesterday I travelled to Cherhill Down too! It’s not that I have any greater love for Cherhill Down than for any other rural spot in Wiltshire, but this weekend I felt a great need to cast winter aside and get out and do some walking but, due to my inability to think more than twenty four hours ahead, I ended up going there twice.
I chose this location for my lonesome Saturday stroll because I know the area well enough to be able to stride forth with confidence and without having to waste much time consulting Ordnance Survey maps. I also chose it because up there the scenery is as wild and spectacular as you will get in the West Country.
I knew in the back of my mind that today my fine chums, the Chippenham Ramblers, (so called because they ramble on a bit) would be doing a walk somewhere not too far away but little did I know that it would cross paths with yesterday’s jaunt. So, having also been up there on another two occasions in the last month or so, I now consider myself to be the wise old mountain man of Cherhill Down. However, on the grounds of repetition, my fine chums the Chippenham Ramblers consider me to be a bit daft.
At long last my cold has completely gone. Well actually it hasn’t quite gone. It’s currently in a Sainsbury’s carrier bag with a load of old tissues in my wheelie bin. Yesterday was a bit dull and windy but today was beautifully sunny and mild and just breezy . . . and the bulbs are coming up in my garden like never before (which isn’t all that surprising because they’ve only been there since October).
Today it felt like spring. Today I felt good for the first time this year. I felt so good that I put my new walking boots on to type this bit of blog. I felt so good that the fitness level required for my trip to Peru seemed do-able. I felt so good that I could hear panpipes over Calne.