cellophane past like a dry whisper

  • Wednesday, June 20, 2012
  • 0
I don't know if you've ever seen a dog with it's head hanging out of a car window, facing into the wind? Their lips get pulled back into a kind of idiot grin of joy and sheer happiness. The wind wasn't blowing much on Sunday, just enough to cellophane past me like a dry whisper but I felt like one of those dogs none the less. Living for the moment. no worries. Acoustic.
I was with Jerry and Liz out on the trails around North Kent. This run was a study of indolence, one of the most relaxed and mellow I've been on. It was a year since we had stumbled upon a tangle of naked hippies in a field so this was an anniversary run of sorts, the mission: to find the frolicking folk. We crossed the usual wheat fields and ran down narrow bramble trails, crossing a stream via stepping stones. I refused to cross a field full of cows and interested bulls, no matter, we changed direction and found Chevening Lakes, an expanse of beautiful clear water over seventy acres in size. Returning we ran along a disused railway line to Darent Valley and back to the unlocked car. As a run this was pretty low trajectory as far as distance and pace go, yet I am increasingly enjoying these types of run, there is great pleasure in friends and pristine scenery.
And the hippies? We didn't find them, the grubby yurt of last year absent along with it's occupants.

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