On Saturday, myself, CBC, his brother WWKTTG and his partner M went for a walk. We decided to do the stretch of The Essex Way between Ongar and Epping. If you don't know, the Central Line, which terminates in the East at Epping (in Essex) is the red tube line in London. It used to go onwards from Epping to Ongar (with intermediate station North Weald and Blake Hall). It is a GREAT shame that it closed in 1994 as it would be very useful to have the option to join the central line from Ongar esp when there were all those engineering works where we lived.
If you wish to read about the history of it, read here- you can visit there and take a steam train ride at various times of the year.
Anyway, the walk is around 7.6miles and it doesn't follow the railway lines but it begins and ends in those towns.
It was an unfortunate time to attempt these walks after several wet months as there was squelchy, difficult-to-traverse mud at many, many moments in the walk. It was clay so very adhesive and sucked at our boots and unfortunately, at one point, I ended up with one foot in a freezing stream. Poor M was wearing trainers, not walking boots so he had a bit of a rough time of it!
As I walked, I was thinking with great animosity about the mud- I have even hurt my hip through slipping in it and walking at awkward angles.
All sorts of thoughts about mud went through my head as I trudged, slipped, squelched and wobbled and it put in mind a Simon Armitage poem called Kingfisher. So here is my Mud poem.
Mud
Mud: sticky, slimy, squelchy.
Mud: oppressive and demanding.
Mud: relentless, will not give up.
Mud: will take all forms of footwear,non discriminatory.
Mud: interminable and omnipresent.
Mud: just leave me alone!
Mud: destroyer of paths and fields.
Mud: Get off my foot!
Mud: "I will always be with you,"
Mud: just when you thought it was safe to tread...
Mud: ....I BITE from beneath innocuous grass!
Mud: An FREE adventure park of slips and slides.
Mud: Always keeps you guessing!
Mud: The uninvited guest!
Mud: Which path will you take? One leads to certain doom!
Mud: I am the Grim Seeper.
Mud: You sap my energy.
Mud: separates families.
Mud: The bog of eternal stench.
Mud.
Sunday, January 19, 2020
5 comments:
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This has made me laugh! I've had enough of the mud. I too walked across a muddy field at the weekend which nearly held me hostage, it was actually a little alarming.
ReplyDeleteHaha, I think you should do a poem looking for the postivies in mud now, the fun! I love a bit of mud :)
ReplyDeleteYour poem put the biggest of smiles on my face, reminding me of those muddy walks in the former brick-making area near us. Oh yes, when it's clay, it sticks to your boots, your soles ending up at least twice as thick as when you started out ;-) xxx
ReplyDeleteWhat a fabulous poem! It has put a big smile on my face.
ReplyDeleteMud! The uninvited guest. Yes! I've had enough of it now, Andy comes home caked in it everyday, and of course it makes his job much harder. I'm looking forward to some frosts to teach it a lesson!
ReplyDeletexx