Tuesday, 19 August 2008
I’ve taken to walking along the front most evenings now. It’s calm in those unique fractured moments, at the end of the day.
There are always other people around. No matter how cold or how little sunlight there is, people are making the most of the day.
I see other people walking dogs. I started taking Millie with me, every day, but Anne had always walked her enough in the day. It seemed strange to Millie that she be allowed out so often, I suppose, so I stopped bringing her. She’s quite literally a creature of habit, like her mother.
I’m not habitual in many things. That’s why I could get away with this evening walking; Anne is never surprised by anything I do anymore.
So I’m looking out onto the beach or maybe the sea, and then I tend to grow tired of nature and I’ll turn around and look at the cars whizzing up the coast road, or I’ll stare straight down the long path that runs along the seafront. This promenade of life; I can see everything I want to see here. Everything I want to be, everything I want to possess, everything I haven’t got.
No wonder I always arrive home in a worse mood than when I left.