Post walk post-mortem

‘Did you enjoy the walk on Sunday?’

The rant starts. About the pace, about the fact that we saw a shop, and a couple of pubs, but never got the chance to test them out.

‘That walk was a doddle. You didn’t get left behind, did you? We’ll soon get you fit!’

What he doesn’t seem to grasp is that, for me, I am fit, or, as fit as I’m ever likely to be. I’ve heard this so many times in the past, though it must be said, not recently. It’s the same as the incredulous looks you get when you say that you don’t like sport, and more specifically, certainly don’t want to play any sport. How can anyone actually think that, the look seems to say, it must just be a case of finding the ‘right’ sport.

I try again. ‘I am fit. And you’re missing the point. I don’t want to walk like that. I want to stop, to take photos, to pop into a shop and a café if I feel like it. I’ll still walk, but there’ll be things to enjoy’.

I can see he doesn’t get it. Later on there is talk of badminton. ‘What about you, will you play?’

I give him a look.

‘Ah!’