Since last writing on Monday I’ve walked in all week now and it’s been great. Forty minutes from home at the Penny Lane end then all the way along Smithdown Road’s ups and downs into the university. I got the bus one particularly early cold and wet morning, I’m not stupid, but other than that I’ve walked in and walked home and I feel great. Six miles or so a day is good for me, good for my thinking and it’s what I do. I walk.
Being a student again, six weeks into it now, is of course a mental challenge. But only a physical one in a negative kind of way, as it involves sitting down a lot. Some in lectures and discussions, but most of it here in the library or in quiet corners where I can read and write. Meaning it would be easy to leave the house in the morning, get on the bus and then sit down all day.
So I walk.
Then during the days I move around. When I’ve finished a piece of work or thought and read long enough about one thing, I’ll go somewhere else and read about the next one. It helps. I’m finding that the first hour or so in any one place is when the best thinking happens. Then I move.
And moving is good for me, it always has been. This blog is now seven going on eight years of writing and photography, mostly about walking and Liverpool. These are my essence, the being that I am.
So this walking along Smithdown, twice a day and whatever else happens, is both a joy and a necessity.
As I walk along I sometimes imagine the road when it was a path across the downs towards the little port by the bay. But mostly I don’t. I’m urban to the core, love living here and, in fact, have been living along Smithdown nearly half my life now. Watching it change and do what great streets do when thousands of people live around them. It responds to busyness, grieves for emptiness and right now it’s doing both along different parts of its length. And I’m watching.
Every morning, every evening, off the buses, walking along Smithdown. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.
All’s more than well here.