It was Walk the Wight Day today. Not by me, though. Oh no. I did something truly tiring. Like weeding. And sitting on a bench eating ice cream wafers when the heat got too much. And a game of footie - just me and Dog, and I got to do throw-ins from the bench. And I won because I didn't spill my wine when I did it.

But I don't want to make it sound as if I am an idle woman. I did saunter up onto Tennyson Down and mingled with the walkers. Where I briefly contemplated pretending I was as fresh as the proverbial daisy and jogging the last few miles to the finishing line. Fortunately, I remembered just in time that I didn't have a number pinned to me. That should teach me not to have a glass of wine at lunch time. Fortunately, I was never one of the quickest learners.

Dog (for it was the necessary dog walk that inspired this output of energy) was a bit perplexed by the crowd. So much so, that she got toilet phobia and plunged into the gorse bushes to do her business. I got a few strange looks from the walkers when I emerged clutching a poo bag.

Luckily, I had taken my camera with me to take a photo of the sudden appearance of masses of yellow flowers that I think are vetch. So here is the evidence of my 'Walk (part of, a very small part of,) the Wight.

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And next year, I swear that I will definitely make it to the top of that slope.