The Isle of Wight walking festival is now on. For a whole month. This means oddly dressed people going out in gangs, discussing the price of petrol whilst getting in the way of Dog and me. I know I am being anti-social - but when you flatten yourself and a reluctant Dog into a hedge of stinging nettles to allow 20 ramblers to pass, it's hard not to feel invisible or irritated when no-one appears to notice you, let alone thank you.
And, whilst I am moaning, the walking festival was nearly responsible for my early demise this morning. There I was, reading the local paper, when I came across an article celebrating a group of people who had gone on a walk wearing decorated bras to raise money for breast cancer charities. This initiative, the brainchild of the amazing Nina Barough and her "Walk the Walk" fundraising efforts saw a small group wander around wearing pink bras. But the bit that made me cry with laughter and choke on my rice krispies was the news that their numbers included an elderly gentleman who had worn a bra on his head for the whole day.
Little do they know that it was probably just another day in the life of the average Isle of Wight resident.....
Tentativeplotfinder
I'm beginning to wonder about starting a campaign for the Lone Walker, I often feel shoved into walls and shop windows in town, as I dodge my way around large groups of people who are oblivious to the Lone Walker.
To say nothing of the Cyclists who think it their right to cycle on the pavement. Such abuse I got yesterday for refusing to move out of one cyclists way on a narrow stretch of pavement that wasn't wide enough for two pedestrians let alone a cyclist as well.