They Don't Call Me Muppet for Nothing

True, is that.

Having moved out to the country, I have rediscovered my love of long walks. So far, I've been trying to get out for an hour or so most days that I'm here. In practice, that means there are four nights in which I can get out into the woods for a while and escape inside my head as I wander where the path may take me.

Last Thursday, that turned out to be a total dead end. I thought I was walking round in a rough square - I was, as it happens. Unfortunately, the third side of the square didn't actually reconnect with the top side of the square from whence I came...this was after a good two hours of walking, by which time I was pretty much worn out. Oh, it was also dark. I'm not fond of the dark, and this was rapidly veering from twilight to darkest night.

And I was desperate for a pee. Now, Sod's Law says quite clearly that anyone taking a leak in the woods is a) bound to be spotted by someone, and b) also bound to widdle all down one or possibly both legs, and probably all over one's trousers or shorts too. So, discretion having warred with valour for some little time, discretion won out.

Let me tell you now that the next three quarters of an hour seemed very, very long.

I realised that there was no need for me to walk back through the woods for an hour and a quarter just to get back to the top of the bridlepath some 45 minutes into my journey. This was because, while I did earlier indicate that this road was a dead end, it was in fact not. Where the top side should have been was a branch off to the left, leading down to the main road. As in, the A1. A nice dual carriageway, speed limit 70 mph (except in the Elkesley accident reduction area where it is 50, or cuurently 40 cos of the roadworks).

There are no footpaths beside the A1. Pedestrians aren't banned from walking alongside A roads, but they sure as hell are not encouraged. So. There I was. Hot, tired, feet killing me, staggering and stumbling along the grass verge, which I quickly discovered took a steep dive to the right into a nice drainage ditch. Not to mention all the ruts, rubbish, burst tyres and general roadside detritus. It amazes me, the kind of crap people happily fling out the window of a moving vehicle. Fortunately not at me, on this occasion.

I walked in alternate pitch darkness, intermittently pierced by headlights of cars, lorries and vans. I only got hooted the once, which I thought was quite good.

The scariest part was actually walking through a huge layby where lots of truck drivers pull up overnight on long haul journeys. All these giant, silent lorries, with mysterious trailerloads of who-knows-what going who-knows-where. And all these great big lorry drivers, ditto. Not the best place for a lone female late of an evening. Not at all.

Happily, the rain stayed off till I was at the top of the driveway and so a minute's stagger from the warm and dry.

On getting home, I may have had just about the most delicious wee I have ever enjoyed.