Jeans and Walking Shoes

I love my jeans. All of them. But the pair I wore yesterday especially.

They fit. Perfectly. They are long in the leg, and when you are 5 foot 9 inches tall that counts for something. The waistband moulds itself to the body without being too tight and the now-faded blue denim is soft against the skin. There is a patch on the left knee where I fell over and tore the fabric after slipping on wet leaves. I’ll continue patching them for as long as necessary.

They have magical properties. I put them on and suddenly become strong, confident and at ease. When I’m happy in my own skin they make me feel really good. At other times I end up feeling better.

Sunny and warm with a cloudless blue sky, yesterday's weather somehow matched the jeans. I had to be in Chelsea by late morning and thanks to the clock change was up and ready far too early. There was time to go on foot. I changed into walking shoes and headed out the door.

The combination of a long stride and an impatient nature means that I set a faster pace than most. Across the common I overtook dog walkers and parents with small children, continued past the bandstand and the outdoor cafe ....

I'd found my rhythm.

Walking is a favourite therapy, always has been. It's liberating. I know myself to be free, dependent on nothing and no-one to get where I want to go. Stepping out yesterday in the autumn sunshine with the sound of church bells in the distance, feeling momentarily at one with the world, the cheap, comfortable shoes seemed to have grown invisible wings.



















A weakness in my lumbar spine has caused me two serious and prolonged bouts of back trouble. On both occasions I was confined to the house for months and each time I wondered if my walking days were over.

So much is difficult and stressful at the moment. No certainties. Much indecision. Some fear.

But I'm also very, very lucky.

Click to enlarge photos.