The Handbag Walks, Part 6

You might have noticed that the walking has tailed off recently. Blame the weather, and work, rather than any lack of commitment. So we decided on a walk yesterday. As it was a Saturday we were joined by V’s husband, K, who was designated ‘honorary handbag walker’ for the day. Well he had his HUGE camera bag, so that was a good substitute.

This was to be a town walk, from Acomb to Dringhouses and back. Hob Moor was mentioned, but it never occurred to me that we would be going ‘off road’, so, ignoring all the wet weather we’ve been having, I set off wearing my sandals.

All goes well until we enter the Moor. The only tarmac-ed path doesn’t go in the direction that we want to go, so, once again, it’s time to strike unerringly across the grass. I have been here before! K very kindly reminds me that, whilst he’s carried me in the past, he isn’t about to do so now. We haven’t gone far before it gets soggy underfoot, and mud squelches into one sandal. I squeal. I continue to pick my way across the grass, muttering.

We reach a tunnel under the railway. It’s full of water, and we’re picking our way, when K gets his camera out. After that it’s clear going as we head up to the racecourse, and we emerge near the site of the Tyburn where Dick Turpin was hanged. We walk down the road to the first garden, and tea and bikkies.

When it’s time to move on, there’s a suggestion that we walk across the racecourse rather than along the road. This is fine on the top of the hill, but as we reach the bottom I start to squeal again. It’s waterlogged. It looks impossible to pick our way and remain even vaguely dry, until it’s suggested that it’s drier over the fence, actually on the racecourse. We’re climbing over, when the camera comes out again. By this point, I’ve given up, and my shoes and feet are very wet and muddy. V has fared worse than me as she’s wearing white shoes with holes in, and now has muddy patterns on her socks. J, as always, has the most sensible shoes of the three of us. There are lots of comments about three fillies approaching the 10 furlong marker.

We reach the garden, and apologise for the muddy trail. There are more tea and cakes, and second hand books. Ooh, shopping, that’s another of our essentials ticked then.

Eventually we head back. There’s a suggestion that we go back across the Moor, but we’ve dried out, so we stick to the road this time. We watch a bit of cricket as we pass the ground, and having worked up an appetite, we also call for a Chinese takaway on the way back. And very nice it is too. We ask K what he thinks of handbag walking, and he admits that he quite likes it.