At the end of a bank holiday in which the rest of the world seemed to be Doing Stuff – parks, countryside, beach, theme parks – and we had done the garden and cleaned the carpet (boring but necessary evils) we decided to have a day out.
As my family can be a little bit anti-walks I was impressed when everyone readily agreed to a trip to the Malverns for a nice hilly walk.
We weren’t the only ones. The place was SWARMING with people – families, couples, toddlers, teens, dogs – they were all out there. For the first time ever we didn’t get a space in the car park – or the other car park up the road.
It wasn’t surprising – a bank holiday, a warm one at that, was bound to bring the people out. Especially as it was pretty much the first decent weather we’d had all year.
My daughter, my husband and I loved it all. The warmth, the views, the sun, the feeling of climbing the hills, the fresh air, being a little bit out of breath… It was just what we needed after a weekend of jobs and a cold spring.
My daughter was like a little mountain goat – running up those hills. I don’t know how she did it, but she had so much energy and enthusiasm in those little legs. Actually, the legs are looking pretty muscular now. It must be all the dancing!
Surprisingly, the Scout and the footballer were less keen. My intrepid eldest son is always happy to tell us how far he walked and how tough it was with Scouts. But a hilly walk with his family? Not so good.
And my younger son’s legs were aching. This is the boy who can play football or rugby for HOURS. Even when he’s injured or ill you can stick a ball in front of him and he will conquer his pain. But not when he has to climb a hill. He needed frequent reminders of the ice cream at the bottom to encourage him.
My eldest was lagging behind, so I waited for him. For a few special minutes, we walked together and had a conversation without him talking too much crap or being irritating. He told me how one of his friends can’t believe how much running I do or how much Superdry I wear. I think this was his way of telling me he was proud of me for those things, which I really appreciated. But then we caught the others up and they started winding each other up as usual.
But at least they got their ice cream.
This post was written in response to a prompt on The Gallery at Sticky Fingers. Pop over to see how others have interpreted the theme of ‘the weekend’.