Just Walking

The missus and I enjoyed a bit of a wander up and down Serangoon Road last Saturday night. The lights were up ahead of Deepavali and, in addition to enjoying the cup that cheers at a couple of eateries, we popped into a bazaar or two to buy some Deepavali cards - one being for Devan who tends our garden in KL and always buys us a big, big card for Eid. Smashing bloke.

In fact we walked to Serangoon from the bottom of Orchard Road, on my recommendation as I just fancied getting a bit footsore. I thought Noi was enjoying it as I could have sworn she kept muttering Inspiring, but it turned out she was moaning about Perspiring. For some reason the walk put me in mind of the days of my youth when wandering to and from Manchester was my way of giving myself time to think and saving bus-fare. Mind you there was no sweating involved in the cool, damp Lancashire climate.

I also got thinking of writers who were notorious walkers. Three sprung to mind for whom I think you could make a fair case for their walking being integral to their work - Dickens, Wordsworth and Joyce. Not a bad triumvirate, eh? My recent reading of the Stephen Hero fragment reminded me of just how much wandering the young Joyce did around the streets of Dublin - unfortunately, from his mum and dad's point of view, when he should have been applying himself to his books. Makes you wonder about the value of education, doesn't it? Or what an education comprises.