A Walk in the Park

Rather than let another weekend slip through our fingers while consumed with endless rounds of tidying, washing, and whatever else, I dragged two of our children out of the house this morning for a walk to the local park. The park is perhaps a mile and a half from home, and stretches along the side of the River Thames as it sweeps past.

We took a bag full of leftover pieces of bread with us, and spent quite some time at the riverbank feeding the swans, ducks, geese, and gulls. While surrounded by the aerial and water-borne bombardment, numerous photographers emerged from the crowd – taking pictures of the mayhem. I stepped away from Miss 13 – chief thrower of bread – and snapped a few photos of my own.

Before arriving at the riverbank we had stopped at a cafe near the entrance to the park, and acquired hot drinks – two coffees and a hot chocolate. They took forever to make, and cost the price of a small house on the outskirts of London. Now I remember why I rarely buy coffee from town any more – the joke in the LEGO movie about the price of coffee wasn’t without merit.

After running out of bread, we sat on a bench alongside the river for quite some time – watching families taking their dogs for walks along the river. I pointed out a passing black labrador as my favorite – his tail wagging like an aeroplane propeller, and his tongue dangling somewhat hilariously from his mouth. My eldest daughter fell in love with a bad tempered husky puppy that seemed intent on eating a gull (if only he could get near enough to one). My youngest gazed in awe at a Great Dane that lumbered past – closely followed by two sausage dogs that would have scarcely filled it’s mouth.

While sitting on the bench watching the world go by, we all remarked that it should be a thing – this “going for a walk on Sunday morning” lark. Of course most weekends find us trudging to football or rugby matches – but when we are not, the sunshine and fresh air seem like a fine tonic to offset the cares of the week ahead. It’s worth mentioning that while writing this, Miss 15 is taking part in county rugby trials – if they go well, we may find ourselves losing even more weekends.

While writing this, a curious silence has fallen upon the house. This means either the washing machine has finished, or Alexa has run out of tunes on whatever play-list the children have chosen. I should probably investigate.

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