Walking is walking, right? No. The stark difference between walking in the village and the city came home to me this week.
I travelled to London for work and decided to walk to my final destination rather than take a convoluted Tube ride. Good decision. I saw the River Thames and enjoyed the steady pace of my walk through London’s back streets.
It was busy, but I didn’t speak to a soul. More than that, the other people barely existed for me. They were just other shapes on the pavements. No-one acknowledged the other’s presence, or existence.
We’re all used to this, but there’s something profoundly wrong with it. Not acknowledging the presence, existence, needs or humanity of others is the beginning of a slippery slope to all kinds of things from simple selfishness to coercive control, and in the end movements such as fascism.
I was glad of the exercise, but troubled by it in equal measure.
Saying hello
In the village, walking is a social activity. It’s a given that anyone who is walking has enough time to simply nod a greeting (which honestly would be considered rude) or wave (better).
Most of us have time for a quick ‘hello’, and generally, I’ve found people are happy to stop and chat.
Thus, it was that in a break in the relentless rain, I decided to head out for a walk round the lanes last weekend. Before I’d been going for five minutes, I’d greeted two horses and their riders (yes, it’s that way round), two cyclists and a dog walker.
After this came two more horses and riders and a few folk also heading to church.
After church as, miraculously, it was still dry, I decided to take the long route home. Coming towards me were a man and dog that I didn’t recognise. Really, I thought I knew them all.
So, focusing on the dog, as is only civil, I bent down, greeted the dog, and made enquiries about it.
On standing, I found myself talking to one of our local celebrities, a person who was my teenage hero. If I hadn’t talked to the dog, I wouldn’t have been able to articulate a sentence. But there we were, chatting about the dog, the weather, travelling and work.
This is a place where eccentric things happen on a regular basis, but talking to my teenage hero while they walked a dog takes some beating.
‘This is a friendly village. Everyone chats,’ said a friend when I moved here, and they were right.
I bade farewell to the celebrity, chuckling inwardly at how my late parents would be weeping with laughter if they could have seen me.
The simple delight about the village walks is that everyone’s existence and presence is acknowledged, valued and often celebrated, from the dogs to the horses, and the people (including the celebrity).
So, I’ll continue to walk from A to B in London but acknowledge that is all it is. On the other hand, I’ll revel in the local walks and celebrate the conversations that happen along the way.
Pix: Freepik and HS