Move in March

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Wednesday 25th Mar Share

Day 20 Walk 20. Last walk. Leave home 06.38

Wednesday 25th Mar I realised when I woke up that there was an unusual silence. No waves. No wind. I step outside and it’s magical, absolute stillness, not even a twitch of a palm frond. Have you ever noticed the last day of a holiday is invariably the best? Skeleton ? 100%! Spotify choice: Teddy Swims. Lose Control. This is going to be memorable. I dissolve my spirit into this still silence . Still the effervescent bubbles in the brain. Walk forward. Everything looks like it’s turned out on parade for me, looking immaculate. The palm tree cathedral arches. Not a piece of litter , no wet dew, no dog poo. ( it’s a rap) ha ha. I turn down to the beach. The sky is just turning into a gentle dawn palette. No moon. Just my eyes and the gentle frizzle sound of baby waves breaking on the rim of the wet sand, and now Teddy is singing Bad Dreams. This moment and me is all that exists. “Buenas Dias” OMG its Māori man and his one eyed dog. He has never spoken before. He must be relieved Im leaving. Ha ha. I arrive at “white wall “ no rough sleeper , actually it’s then that I notice, there isn’t a soul around . I walk with my head turned to the left, not once in 20 days has this scene been even near similar and when on occasions I have walked “the walk” in daylight hours, I’ve had the feeling of arriving late at a fancy dress party that is in full swing and your host forgot to tell you that you should dress up. Horrible. Hey ! Rhythm change. P!nk, Hustle me. My step gets a buzz , the rhythm is so infectious I have absolutely no choice but go with it, I don’t want this to end……I will extend the walk when I get to the port. (Bucket list: to see P!nk in concert Live. ) BACON……… hmmm wafting in . This is the day that just keeps on giving. Brain to Brain: stop partying. I stop and look straight out sea. The sky is breaking into sunrise but as the sun is still to appear , it’s the sole fluffy cloud above my head that has turned the gentlest of pinks, it looks a little like a jelly fish. I evaporate again. I learned sometime back when I first started practicing meditation that when the instruction at the end of the practice was “ let your thoughts do what they want” my brain would stop. Visually that is like when you put your finger in the mousse in a glass of champagne the bubbles gently fizzle out and then it just stays stopped, an empty vessel . I practice lengthening the time , if I get to a minute I feel slightly drunk. Marmalade! You know it’s my last day don’t you ? Have a good day. He/she ignores me and rubs up against the leg of the person who supplies the food. Hmm that is so “Cat” Music: Xavier Rudd : Follow the sun. How perfect. The sky and the light are just getting more beautiful by the second. It’s getting quite light. I decide to continue past the port towards the wind turbines. Thats an extra 500 steps at least. It’s a good place to stop. Again the sea and its atmosphere are so gentle , mesmerising. Reluctantly I turn towards home. Sunrise. I video it , a full 2 minutes, this is a meditation too. Then I just stop still for a bit. Dissolve. I walk on then stop to chat to a lady who smiles at me, she is from UK. We have passed each other before. They are here for another week. We discuss the tragic weather back home. We say good bye. I haven’t really had any conversation since my friend was here which was 10 days ago. Actually thats not quite true, I have had a couple of chats with tourists. An Italian girl at a bus stop and a Finish couple at a different bus stop. What will this experience have taught me? I feel absolutely blessed to have had this walk. It’s been so incredibly special. I’ve been saturated in me. Blessed by a freedom of movement that I have not ever believed was available to me and….. the music. I take the long route to the house, it adds about 500 steps . I turn up the road and enter the white gate. Take off my trainers and bang the soles together to get rid of the sand. Unlock the front door and walk in. The house is warm ! Thats a first. Share

Day 19. Walk 19. Leave home 06.40

Tuesday 24th Mar

It’s really still and the air is crisp, cold even. Skeleton an 8. This is going to be ok. I set off along the road and after about 5 minutes I turn down toward the beach. Oooo there is a dawn sky. Uncluttered by clouds just gentle washes of those  prism colours across the horizon. Does it know that tomorrow is my last walk, has it done this for me? I let myself become porous not only to absorb the very cold damp air but to make sure I can remember these amazing visceral sensations .

On the sandy beach below me I spot the very identifiable silhouette of  Māori man, he’s too far away to acknowledge, my pace continues. 

Lanzarote is still invisible, it has been for 3 days now. The colours are making the beach look smart. I haven’t seen that since the day it  was wearing 1990’s  Issey Miyake. 

The little sandy beach is awash with another load of seaweed. The beach cleaner is sweeping the cement step. He is fighting a loosing battle. 

No sign of Marmalade. I head towards the port , the air is  incredibly damp . I meet an English couple of similar age to me, we have meet over the last few days. The say good morning. She has a lovely smile. Im consciously pushing my inner mood away . It’s there though, the tightness across the chest that goes up the neck and then jumps to behind the eyes. It’s a yearning to fill a gap that won’t ever be filled. I wonder how I will feel getting back home. I don’t know if I’ve used  the  time here as well as  I could have. It’s irrelevant really, I’ve done what I’ve done. Thank goodness I bought my iPods before leaving. The music, in my head , the walk has given me an incredible feeling of freedom and achievement. “Thank you Apple”. -for the iPad as well. 

On the home stretch coming up to the blue slatted benches the “sun risers” are joining the scene. It’s the first sunrise for several days. The watchers form categories. The young couples who are in love, sealing a beautiful moment , making a memory. They are  silhouetted together as one ,standing on  the black rocks against the gentle orange skyline. Then there are the singles. Lost in their own very private thoughts. Standing still like statues. Then there are the others sitting on the blue benches. Everyone is focused on the same object. Those with their mobiles out taking photos don’t trust the last photo they’ve taken and take several  zillion more just to be sure they have captured the moment. They have missed the point. By focusing on their screen they have by default lost that very special  moment. 

I start a discussion with myself that I have had  frequently since I’ve been here. “ does there come a point in grief where you just wrap it up in something special and put it somewhere that only you have access to” I think that is probably how it works. And then there’s that word “ widow”. ( have I already mentioned  this? Well here it is again) I HATE it.

I arrive  at  the turning towards home but decide to go on to the next one. The sunrise gets more magnificent as I walk along the. The sun is now silhouetting the little white buildings and palm trees on the peninsula stretching into the sea. I made a good choice. 

I decide to get the bus to the other side of the island.

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Last day but one

Tuesday 24th Mar Share

Day 18. Walk 18. Leave home 06.47

Monday 23rd Mar

Oh joy of joy. No wind , hardly a breeze. As soon as I step out from the gate a French girl passes me and says ‘allo”. I say better than yesterday no?  We both continue moving and are in total agreement that yesterday was horrid. She sticks to the road , I turn down to the beach. There is a slight breeze and the sky is overcast but in a way that gives hope that the sun will burn it off as the day goes on. 

The high tide has covered the sand with seaweed . The breeze carries that very particular smell towards me.

It looks like it’s rained in the night everything is wet but I wonder if it’s just a really heavy dew. There are groups of young wet suited people on the beach, one group is doing life saving. The other is  exercising . 

Of course, it’s half term. After that there isn’t anyone around . Three really large sea gulls are riding  the thermals . It looks so easy. 

I get down to the little sandy beach, the tide has left industrial quantities of seaweed, the poor cleaner is removing it, single handed, putting it into black plastic bags, he will be there all day. 

Marmalade is doing a back rub against a corner  of an indoor wall. Pronouns: He/she looks happy. 

The air is quite heavy with humidity. I get to the port and think about carrying on but decide to be sensible, I’ve only got two walks left, I don’t want to spoil anything and today the skeleton has been a 5.5. 

How do I keep this up  back in a very soggy UK. 

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Day 17. Walk 17. Time not recorded!! Probably 06.45 ish

Saturday 21st Mar

The wind has been exceptionally strong and this morning it’s 40 miles an hour. 

The house whistles. Although the scenery and seascape outside the window is beautiful and the sky is blue, the day is going to be a long one. Yesterdays attempt at escaping the wind by travelling to the other side of the island  was a big mistake, it was worse over that side. I caught the midday bus back! 

Change of plan. Driven by boredom I decide to try a walk. 

Leave home 10.24

It’s a clear blue sky but the wind is really strong. I hate wind like this. I decide to carry on. When I turn down to the beach it nearly knocks me over. I consider giving up. It’s really unpleasant. However the thought of staying in all day with just me to listen to makes me continue. There are a few kite surfers out and they are going  at real speeds, it must be so exhilarating. The white horses are many,  long and strong.

I continue on, there a few intrepid people out walking along the palisades. The poor restaurants are suffering. They only have small indoor areas and the outdoor tables are pretty much empty. The sand is billowing around. 

I carry on but I’m finding it really hard work physically, again I consider giving up but the same thought makes me carry on. I turn the corner after the small sandy beach and the wind is so strong you have to lean right into it to stay upright. But I get through it and on the straight again down towards the port it eases a bit. I’m so happy to reach my fish, which, in day light, I notice has a name plaque. “Moro”. I turn and the wind is behind me , not sure if that’s easier. The sun is really hot, I take my sweatshirt off and tie it around my waist. Im worried the wind might blow my iPods out. Im listening to Miles Smith, it really works, I need all the encouragement I can get. It’s seems like the distance home is growing in length not getting closer. I’m so pleased to turn off the beach and into the road and towards the house. I get in and drink loads of water. 

11.28.  Steps: 5,737 . I really don’t understand that, it’s exactly the same walk I do every morning and yet it’s about 300 steps shorter. Odd. 

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Day 17 Walk 17. Cancelled.

Friday 20th Mar

The wind has been exceptionally strong and this morning it’s 40 miles an hour. 

The house whistles. Although the scenery and seascape outside the window is beautiful and the sky is blue, the day is going to be a long one. Yesterdays attempt at escaping the wind by travelling to the other side of the island  was a big mistake, it was worse over that side. I caught the midday bus back! 

Change of plan. Driven by boredom I decide to try a walk. 

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Day 16. Walk 16. Leave home 06.45

Thursday 19th Mar

I’m already in a bad mood before opening the door. The wind has been a full force gale all night and the whistling through the house has been maddening . As I step out I’m taken  by a gust of wind. It takes the gate from my hand and slams it shut. It’s a P!ink morning. “ Don’t Hustle Me”. Absolutely do not do that ! not today.

I’m not walking particularly well either. Come on skeleton. My mind like the weather keeps pulling me back to  real life rather than the moment. 

I turn down to the beach and see Somali man, who isn’t, being blown across the sandy beach, he has his hood up but it’s definitely his caftan.

My hood is flapping about uncontrollably and my hands feel like cold lumps, chilly . I look out to sea , the sky, there is a hint of a dawn , thats nice. 

No rough sleeper. A couple of large umbrellas in-front of a restaurant despite being closed have been blown over. That’s incredible the bases are cement blocks, thats how strong the force of the wind is.

I carry on and actually have the thought that today’s diary is going to be a quick write. The beach cleaner is there working against the odds but Marmalade is nowhere to be seen. Probably hunkered down somewhere safe. As I get down to the port I decide to go on a bit and look at the open sea, maybe carry out what I had intended to do at Christmas when I was here. Stand and scream at the waves. No one would hear, the sound  would be carried away by the waves and the wind. I stand there in the bluster and look out to the sea, just  5 feet away from me ,  now that I’m there   I don’t really need to scream. For what? I’m ok. Life’s a river it takes you forward. My life is good. 

I turn back towards home. After about 200 yards the wind suddenly drops , maybe like me it’s realised that being bad tempered isn’t a great thing. My music is taking me forward and I’m going well. A man comes up from behind he turns his head and looks straight at me “ morning” I don’t remember ever seeing him before but it felt like he had seen me. He goes on past. Nice brown legs, good  calf muscles. 

The sea is full of white horses. The sky hasn’t t really materialised into anything of promise. I decide to head home and catch an early bus to the other side of the island. Maybe the weather will be better there. 

(It wasn’t)

The wind has picked up again. I get home exactly one hour since I left. I go inside. 

The wind is whistling through the house.

“Fuertaventura “ I guess the clue is in the name but this is extreme. 

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Day 15. Walk 15. Leave home 6.45

Wednesday 18th Mar

No moon, thick cloud and a really extremely  strong wind. I send a firm message to the skeleton, “come on, get going guys.”

I have made the decision to leave here earlier than planned so I have 5 more walks left. This morning the wind is uncomfortable and it isn’t warm as it was yesterday.  I’m solid definitely not soft,  the atmosphere, it’s sitting outside me stubbornly refusing to envelope me, I’m an object in the scene rather than being organically absorbed by it. The sky is large menacing clouds. There is one wispy brushstroke of soft white that been done with a fast slapdash motion. The sea is dark. 

WOA! Turn the corner 1/3 way along the “C” and there is a film crew. Lots of equipment, cameras huge bags. Tripods. Lorries. The full Monty. I walk through them , they absolutely do not notice me. I carry on , I change the music, it’s not right this morning,  I put on my favourite playlist. Thats better. 

SMACK!Another WOA! a waft of bacon cooking. Omg , the smell of bacon cooking  such a potent thing. It just gets your saliva glands going. When I was in the Middlesex hospital for my big operation I was there for a month. One day a nurse asked me if she could get me anything. I asked if she could bring me a in bacon sandwich . The next morning she arrived with this beautiful bacon sarny . I was unwrapping it and drooling, just at that very moment the ward rounds started. Mr C and team headed straight for my bed. “We are here to take your stitches out”  . The sandwich and I , congealed slowly . 

I walk on , the music and my walking rhythm is better. I get to the little sandy beach,  no beach cleaner today. Marmalade cat has changed homes and is sitting in another restaurant. He looks neat, paws together sitting up straight ,happy pussy cat.

I reach the port,  industrial quantities of Coca Cola are being off loaded onto forklift trucks. The fish Wharehouse is also open and receiving deliveries. It’s Friday and valentines weekend. 

I turn at my fish and head back. The wind has dropped , still no dawn sky, just a few random openings in the dark cloud, they look like frayed slashes in denim jeans . As I get back to the little beach a small fluffy black dog is going absolutely mental racing around in circles  like he has been released from prison and  let loose, he is so happy, the world and the beach  belong to him.

I stop at my bench but no sign of sunrise . The sea is dark , the laughing bird is flying about and making its noise like a nightingale on steroids. I must google that. I get up and  walk on . The film crew have gone! Just a few guys clearing  and stacking up the lorries. 

I go home the way I came rather than the extended route along the beach where there isn’t any palisade. 

Im definitely missing the dawn light  and the sunrise. I tell myself to count my blessings. WhatsApp messages from the Uk are pretty grim. 50 days of rain! 

 

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Day 14. Walk 14. Leave home 6.40

Tuesday 17th Mar No moon. It’s really windy. Blustery autumn wind except it’s warm. It sets the feel to this morning’s walk. The walk is consciously about absorbing what is around me and the emotions that are in this moment . I realise that the feelings I absorb are totally guided by the time, even 5 minutes here or there makes a big difference, the atmospheric conditions. Blustery wind is a new one, it’s invigorating. The skeleton is going well which is a relief. The sky is overcast again and there is a feeling of comfortable routine. My pace , again chosen by Spotify, my new best friend, is gentle upbeat “Imany” , her voice is just pure spirit and deep in her soul. Her song “Take Care” reduces me to sobbing every time . Hey, come back mind, you’re wandering. None of my usual “friends “ . As I near the port and my Fish turning point, the air is filled with the smell of diesel fumes. The early morning ferry to Lanzarote is starting up its engines ready to leave, it’s billowing out black smoke from its funnel . The air and the visual settings along the walk are so crisp and clean that any invasive smell or unpleasantness seems multiplied in their intensity. I see Marmalade the cat up on the roof of the restaurant, it creeps into a small space between the terracotta roof tiles and the facia board under neath. Two thoughts, how on earth did it get up there and, what on earth can it have spotted in there? The gap is literally 4 inches, maybe not even that. Not sure what motivated the photo. The beachside and the sea are dull , oddly there are no surfers out, usually by now there are a group heading out. Comes to that there is hardly anyone about. It’s Thursday, maybe Thursday is change over day? Uneventful morning. I think I’ll head over to Cotillio. Share

Day 13. Walk 13. Leave home 6.44

Monday 16th Mar No moon. It’s dark the sky is covered in cloud. On the scale of 1-10 the skeleton is a 6. Hopefully it will get into swing. It’s really warm and no breeze at all. As I walk along the road my mind is taken over by orthopaedic thoughts. Am I being sensible to push on through this. My up and coming visit to Mr P. Getting a referral to a neck man in Epsom. Hmmm. As I turn down towards the beach I consciously, gently, pull my mind back to now. I know this view so well now. No matter where you are in the world the smell of the sea air is so …… so what ?? ….. I can’t find the word. It’s just private in your head, maybe it’s just a private sensation on your breath but I think, if anyone was taken blind fold in a car and dropped off at the sea, I would like to bet that they would suss that they were by the sea. There isn’t a soul about. Good. I walk on, my own thoughts in my own head, the sky is still grey keeping the darkness going. I’m not exactly moving with a spring in my step but it’s fine, I’m feeling encouraged. There is suddenly a strong waft of seaweed. It’s almost as if the cloud overhead is keeping me in a cocoon of warmth and quietness. I see a group of youths ahead they are quiet but lurching a bit. As I approach , one of them, who is dressed all in white and by the way, is tall and huge in all directions , turns to the low wall opposite the sea and to my left and , has a “PISS” I absolutely detest that word, it’s rude and crude, but it perfectly describes the total lack of respect of this action. Why is this, on any planet , acceptable behaviour?. A lady jogger is coming towards me , we share silent exasperated glances. I get down to the small sandy beach, the marmalade cat that obviously belongs to the restaurant by this section of beach and who I see every day but haven’t mentioned until now, also decides it’s time for it to do its business. It walks daintily down the stone steps to the sand, makes an nice little hole in the sand and settles it’s self down. So polite. The port is in sight, no dawn, just a slightly paler grey line across the horizon. I turn around and head towards home. I stop at my blue slatted bench , sit, and just look out to sea, no thoughts at all just wrapped in the atmosphere. When I walk on I notice that they have filled in a few gaps in the walk way with new sections of the palisade. I haven’t seen any of my “mates”. I’m happy to get home. Over the last few days my thoughts have settled in a difficult zone, I don’t know whether to let them stay and see it through or whether it’s time to learn to park them . It’s the dementia conundrum . I lost my husband over 5 years but physically only 5 months ago . The couple who have moved into the house next door were talking over the fence yesterday. They are second time rounders. Both lost their partners. One dementia, one cancer, they are here to celebrate his 80 th birthday. ( Am I repeating myself? ) they were being friendly. They met online. Were they were trying to get me to share my story. I absolutely could not do that. Share

Day 12 Walk 12 Cancelled

Sunday 15th Mar

I had a feeling this was too good to be true! After yesterday and ongoing issues through the day, I decided today is a rest day. I woke at 6.15. It felt really difficult not to be getting up and out into that atmosphere. I can clearly see the dawn sky from my bed and I can see the palm tree in-front of my terrace, it’s getting blown about forcefully , oh well. I turn over and actually go back to sleep. I wake up about an hour later feeling completely dull and fuzzy headed. I’ll have to find something I can do that doesn’t take its toll quite so much. 

I’ll stick to some Pilates . 

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Day 11. Walk 11. Leave home 6.32

Saturday 14th Mar Well I guess it had to happen. The skeleton is just wrong. Pelvis and “special” leg not working in unison . I’m walking really unevenly. I decide to push on through , hopefully as I warm up it will all get going. I’m slow and the face is definitely not in relax mode. Once on the palisade it’s easier and I feel encouraged. Somali man is on the sandy beach near the sea, he is speeding along like a toy that has been wound up and let go. I continue on my path, no rough sleeper today I hope he is somewhere safe. I’m really not walking well. The breeze is warm which is encouraging. It comes to my mind that there are two skies in the morning, dawn and then sunrise. The two are separate. Today’s dawn is beautiful colours dragged across the horizon at a slanted angle. The Sand Artist is already at work on the damp fresh sand, I wonder what she will build today. She does fabulous dinosaurs. They usually stay for about 24 hours before a combination of the sea levels and tourists destroy them . The beach cleaner dressed in his high vis , who I see everyday by the way, is photographing the skyline. Nice that he still notes the beauty of his work surroundings. If he was cleaning up the streets of London the poor man would shrivel up and , well, die. When I reach the port I am only to pleased to be turning around. The wind catches the hood of my lightweight jacket and makes a sound like the sails on a yacht flapping in the wind . It makes me jump. I don’t stop to watch the sunrise, I’m really dragging my feet. I hope this will settle back down. If I can’t walk I will definitely jump ship and return home early. Hmm. I decided I’m going to get the bus to Cotillio today. Share

Scroll down!!!

Saturday 14th Mar You need to scroll down to get to the first posts. I can’t work out how to do it any other way. ☺️ Share

Day 10. Walk 10. Leave home 6.45.

Saturday 14th Mar There is no moon. I turn and start walking along the road towards the turning down to the beach. The road is lined with palm trees and street lights , making arched shadows like a cathedral , the pavement is made up of cream colour 30cm square tiles. The walls of the houses are on my right. Very little wind today just a breeze. It’s almost as if the weather has stopped fighting itself and is settling down into holiday mode. That would be nice. I feel as if a kind of normality is settling in me. Spotify has chosen some very stirring tango music. It’s getting deep inside me. I come up to the rough sleeper. It’s a little inconsiderate that his sun-bed is parked right across the walkway, it’s difficult to walk around him without risk of falling off the edge of the palisade into the scrub bush or disturbing him, I check out his trainers they look in good shape , maybe this person is just taking advantage of a cheap form of holiday accommodation. Hmm. I start thinking about spending another 14 days here on my own. The weather back in the UK is grim, the scenery here is so stunning, and even when the wind is cold the sun is shining. Do I have it in me to handle the solitude for another two weeks? A couple have moved into the house next door. He is celebrating his 80th birthday and their children and grandchildren are joining them, in a property across the road, for half term. Why is that I formation so difficult for me? They are a nice couple. I get to the port and turn around , walk back to my blue bench and wait for a friend , when she arrives we watch the sunrise together. The sea was a mellow blue grey sea , no snow molten silver. It’s incredible how light reinvents exactly the same scene every day. A man comes past us, he nods, my friend looks at me and acknowledges that she recognises him “ Māori man.” “Yep” We walk home in silence . Tomorrow my walk will be my private companion again. Share

Day 9 Walk 9 Leave home 06.40

Friday 13th Mar I wonder if I will have exhausted all the possible feelings and emotions that this walk brings out everyday. Instantly I notice the complete lack of even the tinniest breeze. The palm trees are completely motionless. The air is quite cold. I start off: Imany today one of her more spiritual ones. I had definitely over done the walking yesterday, walking into town around lunch time, together with the extended morning walk I’m really struggling to get going this morning. I turn down to the beach, the water too is flat, very calm and still. Its still dark. The rough sleeper is there and doesn’t hear or feel my presence. Perhaps I should explain , my walk is along a bay that is an extended “C” shaped sea front. From home to my fish at the port and back is around 6000 steps. My end of the “C” is residential higgldy piggldy white houses with occasional splashes of yellow, blue , with classic terracotta roof tiles and palm trees. It’s pretty. The beach in front is this mixture of black rocks with carpets of white coral chips, tiny broken up pieces . It’s tough on the feet but visually beautiful and it makes the waters edge a clear aquamarine colour. I haven’t yet ventured in. Across the sea is Lanzarote, it changes every single day. Anyway back to the walk. So once I’m down at the beach there is an esplanade, it’s probably 2.5 meters wide and the slats are man made. It’s so easy for me to walk on, probably , no, without doubt, part of the success of this walking . I am literally addicted to it. The music, the rhythm of my steps the relaxed expression on my face and “ happiness” . It’s as near to dancing as I will get but it gives me a feeling of freedom of movement. My heart is definitely dancing. It works because I’m on my own. Not walking to anyone else’s beat or listening to someone else’s chatter. It’s totally self centred, self indulgent. I’ve noticed that it’s getting lighter earlier, I might have to leave home earlier to keep the darkness, but maybe it’s just the weather improving. Doh! Of course that’s what happens, it’s the natural lengthening of the day. I arrive down at the port and I’m tempted to go further but decide to turn around. The “glass bottom boat” in the port is lit up this morning, the calm sea must suit it. I continue back towards home, this end of the curve is built up, tourist land, restaurants border the bay. Right now the chairs are vacant , like an empty theatre awaiting the arrival of the general public who will be there in their hoards as the day goes on. Every colour, shape and size of humanity will make the place tick for 14-16 hours- I suppose. I’m in bed by 9.30pm. ha ha. Half way home I stop sit on my blue slatted bench to face the horizon. It’s breathtaking today. The sea that gives the impression of being still is actually made up of millions, literally millions of tiny ripples . Where the water meets the edge of the rocks it gives the impression of molten liquid silver . The as yet unseen sun starts to make an appearance I go into soft focus meditation mode. The sea on the horizon looks like a faintly pale orange polar snow scape. The distant white waves are large and don’t seem to move . Wow, pale orange polar snow on the horizon and reflecting that same warm colour, rippling molten silver at the waters edge beneath my seat. It is all consuming. Today the sunrise is going to be really special, it’s catching the attention of everyone around. I feel tears coming and that sensation of something in my chest. They don’t come, that’s fine. Tears for something breathtaking are ok. It s hard to pull myself away, it’s one of those days where I don’t want to be back indoors. I stand up and my left ankle has decided to go on strike , bugger. I coax it gentle back to life and I walk to a slower beat. Slow down the dance. P.S. no Somali man, no Māori man. Share

Day 8. Walk 8. Leave home 06.40

Thursday 12th Mar

Music Sam Smith. Well done Spotify nice choice. 

Straight away the wind is extremely relevant. It’s cold and strong. There are big rain puddles on the side walk, on the route  that I use to get down to the beach. The sky is paler than yesterday so the scenario is lighter. A definite feature is the wind. No disappearing edges for me  today , as the wind blows into me my  entire body feels  like I am being pressed into plasticine. It’s exhilarating. Thats good because yesterday evening on my terrace overlooking the stunning beautiful wide bay and the  sea between here and Lanzarote I had a massive bolt of sadness, grief is such  a cruel companion.  

So to be hit by this wind is good. The music changes I fall into the  rhythm of  Bad dreams: Teddy Swims. It’s easy, it’s good. In my head I’m dancing. 

I get to the rough sleeper but he isn’t there, the bed is but no sign of him. I walk on, no Somali man, no sign of Māori  man + small dog either. Actually- no one about at all. 

Spooky. 

I get down to the port past my fish and decide to continue on. As I leave  the port  and turn right around  the corner , WOA, the wind is a full force . My hair , my face, the roar of the sea, hit full on by the  power of nature. 

Big smile .

A group of tourists with their wheelie  luggage, obviously heading for the early morning ferry, cross the road from their hotel on my left down to the sea wall on my right  , get their mobiles out to take one or two or three or ten , last photos of the horizon which today is the pastel colours of baby wool. Mild, and despite the raging seas the day has promises of being sunny . I turn around and the wind gets behind me pushing me in the direction of home. 

As I return via the port and head along the built up sea front I  pass a Warehouse which is  receiving a delivery of the fresh catches from the fishing boats. 

My face is happy, it gets this expression everyday , not a full smile  just happy. That’s ok. 

There are quite a few walkers by now, I’m late because of my extended walk. I notice that of the older couples , the men have far better legs than the women - it’s fine, just an artists observation, don’t say a word. 

HEY! Māori man! I nod, maybe to eagerly,  almost imperceptibly he nods back  and the look in his eyes says ( why the f**k is this woman so pleased to see me everyday?) 

By the time I reach my turning off the beach I’m really looking forward to breakfast on the terrace. 

The skeleton has fallen into place.

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Day 7 Walk 7 Leave home 06.56 late again!

Wednesday 11th Mar

Music Xavier Rudd Follow the Sun. Gentle . 

It’s very still and the air is quite warm, well warm ish. As I  turn down to the sea front a laundry delivery van reverses down the road. 

The sea too is still. I get going, the skeleton is aligned - nice.   

As I get to the white wall a young person has positioned a sun lounger right across the walkway, which at this point is protected on the beach side  by an a mound of bushy scrub  plants, . He is sound asleep huddled underneath a beach towel. There is a waft of urine. I pass around the lounger and head on my way .At the next section I see Somali man heading down the beach away from me but coming towards him and towards me is Māori man. Goodness we all meet up! Except we are all totally in our own zones.  They have no idea that they even have a place in my daily diary. 

Thats my secret. Ha. Nice. 

As I get to my favourite curve in the beach, the part that looked so smart yesterday, today the the tide is higher and the seaweed is wet and  there is that smell that is so identifiable coming up on my right, it collides with a wonderful waft of freshly baked  bread coming down from the bakery, thats a first I haven’t smelt that before.

I get down to the port heading towards my fish. On the pavement on the left , ahead of me something dark grey and lifeless is lying beside the pavement, it’s a dead rat. Time was I would have screamed the place down but I just looked at it and  instead wondered how it had died. It wasn’t squashed and it wasn’t lying on its back, it looked like it had just come to a stop mid scuttle. Hope I can do that. 

I reach my fish and turn around, as I head back towards the corpse a young man is heading  towards the rat and he kindly points it out to me - yes, thank you,  a dead rat. 

The sky is cool grey with a pale cream  slash across the horizon, the cloud is  all one and still, the sea and the atmosphere is lazy today there is hardly any movement, the few waves that there are are further out and are long, with a gentle roll rather than a crash. “Mare lungo.” ( Italian)

As I arrive nearer home the sun starts to show its first burning glow and for about 5 minutes there is a small promise of a nice day. It didn’t last and the orange ball moved upwards through the Venetian blind slats  of cloud  and disappeared into the pale  grey blanket of cloud and as yet hasn’t reappeared .  I turn right off the beach and walk up the short stretch of road towards the front of the house. 

Randomly I think about being hugged. My husband and I hugged each other  until the end of his lost, confused and muddled life. As a family we hug. I feel  a profound ache walk across my chest. I’m missing you all. 

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Day 6 Walk 6 Leave home 06.37

Tuesday 10th Mar

 My  skeleton is definitely not aligned. Pelvis, knee and an ankle. Grrr. Hopefully as I get going things will line up. The moon is fuzzy, the air very still and  warm but I feel a cool breeze on my index fingers. The music for today is Kovacs , “Underground. “

There is a lot of life noise in my head. I guess it was inevitable that the real world would catch up .  

A few minutes in I realise I haven’t washed my teeth. I forget about it. 

It’s really dark , no pink horizon no light in the sky at all, I wonder if that means it’s going to be bad weather. As I walk along a sandy stretch of beach I catch sight of my shadow reflected twice on a white wall. It doesn’t look 74. ( smile). 

Against the darkness I notice a white shawl gliding  towards me  along the beach then as it gets nearer Somali man materialises , of course he is not Somali man, he’s is most likely Moroccan . He is too far away to acknowledge and it’s still so dark we each carry on in our individual  silent spaces.

I pick up the beach walk again and as I look down at the palisade boards , two parallel lines of what look like sequins shine in the dampness , reflecting the light from the beach lights , looking closer it turns out they are neat rows of Philip screw heads.  

Private chuckle. 

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Day 5 Walk 5 Leave home 6.37

Tuesday 10th Mar

Music: Walk me home. P!nk 

The moon has a soft focus fuzziness. The air is very damp, the atmosphere is dull, after yesterday, which was a truly wet and cold day  today feels ambivalent.  I get to the beach, the start of the dawn colours are exceptional. The horizon sky is dark with this beautiful streak of dawn creeping across it. What do they say “ red sky in the morning……” I hope not I would struggle with another day like yesterday. I reach the port, I’ve passed Māori man and two young women, one of them is wearing a perfume, the density of it is so clawing in the pure sea air, apart from these guys it’s deserted. It feels an uneventful morning. 

I walk past not just one but two puddles of vomit! And yes, carrot and tomato in both. 

I stop to watch the sun come up but by now there are dark clouds along the horizon. I go inside. 

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Day 4 Walk 4 Leave home LATE 7.24

Monday 9th Mar

Right away everything feels different. Dawn has already passed, I get to the sunrise point and watch the sunrise . It’s far too busy, the walkers and swimmers are out. I’ve missed my moment of solitude. I pass Māori man and his dog already down my end of the beach . Because it’s daylight I see that the dog has one sinister eye , it’s white but has a small black pupil. It makes me smile inwardly. It’s a very different feel today, the temperature is warm there is a gentle breeze, I get down to the port and decide to turn around. Coming towards me is a man in his 40’s - maybe ? tanned - fit- cool looking.. He is looking at me straight in the eye , he stops abruptly  and,  from a distance of about 4 feet away, bends forwards and vomits!  Yes, that actually happened. I didn’t stop, just carried on walking.  

Is that ok?  

Don’t answer. 

My body was actually struggling a bit today. Yesterday afternoon I had gone down to the beach and turned right instead of left to go for a wander. It was a mistake, there isn’t a walk way and I was walking on soft sand. It took me years to learn that I can only walk down a beach with my left leg on the shore side. ( it’s a skeleton issue ) When I got to the part where I noticed it was causing me problems I had already passed the point of no return ,I  had a choice to go forward or back. I decided to continue forward and get to the tarmac road. It was an easier walk back on the pavement . I totalled another 16000 + steps . My leg and (dam it) my good knee where both in trouble this morning. 

Again as I walked along a random thought a came into my head. If I hadn’t had “my leg” I definitely would have had a wet suit and a surf board . I also would have played tennis. And danced , I would I have danced a lot. But this walk has become like dancing, if you are transparent, just air and music , iPods and Spotify , P!nk and the rest of my  playlist team . 

Mate, I’m dancing. 

But then maybe I wouldn’t have started painting, I would never have met Steve Cannon , the great “Mr C.” As I refer to  him, or Sarah who is totally responsible for so much happiness , or Rosemary, who has been there for me , again and again. I might never have had the joy that all the connections with fund raising for the RNOH. I might not have started painting, a move which brought a completely unexpected direction to my life. 

My mantra has always been “ open the next door”. 

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February 3rd

Monday 9th Mar Share

Day 3. Walk 3. Leave home 6.43

Monday 9th Mar

This morning it’s really dark.I am greeted by the sharpest full moon staring right  at me as if it is there just for me. There is no one about. The air too is sharp, cold and crisp, edgy , no wind at all. Just me in the air. 

I’m discovering that when  clutter goes from my mind , the constant imagined conversations stop and I’m just here, in the moment, unusual things come to mind. I have realised no one will ever again  call me Bimba.  That thought which just hadn’t  occurred to me since my husband  died, now just pops into my head. “Bimba” that name belonged to me alone , with love from him. 

Hmm. My eyes prickle. 

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Day 2 Walk 2 Leave home 06.35

Sunday 8th Mar

 I  hope that I’ll catch the sunrise. The beat of the playlist Spotify has chosen for me is more gentle this morning , pensive. I decide to tone down and go with it. The breeze is warm and damp with drizzle ( again? didn’t they get the memo? This is a winter sunshine holiday?) 

Again  the peaceful acceptance of solitude is repeated. The nearer I get to the port so I start to meet other walkers. 

Couples. 

Hm . Thats a twinge of pain, but then my cruel thoughts tell me one or other of that happy pair , if they are lucky enough to love each other , will at some point experience my pain, the void.

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Day 1 Walk 1

Sunday 8th Mar Day 1. Walk 1. Leave home at 06.15 Corralejo Fuertaventura February 2026 There is street lighting against a pitch black sky and not a soul around. I put my iPods in and play my latest music P!nk ( why did I only learn about her now aged 74) the beat sinks into my body and I start to walk towards the sea front with a force in my step that I don’t recognise . The combination of the music and the ocean air hits me like a high really deep inside. The darkness, the solitude and the smell of seaweed the dampness in the air shrouding me in a cape of joyful energy. Happiness. “Happiness “ now here’s the thing, How do I manage these bubbles of happiness that keep rising in my chest? Happiness that I haven’t felt for such a long long time. I need to feel reality to be sure that these feelings are not just mental games in my traumatised volatile mind . Let’s get back to the walk. I walk for 40 minutes down to the port and beyond, my leg letting me lead the way, will I pay the consequences later- or maybe not. I’ve decided to just go with it. The early morning workers who make a tourist spot work are starting to arrive, the laundry , the catering companies. In Bars and restaurants floors are being washed , chairs on the beach brushed down. There is a very gentle movement into the day. Where is the sun rise I rose so early to catch? . I’m early and the sky is overcast a misty drizzle wraps me up again. The sky is now a dense indigo the harbour lights twinkle . I remove the iPods and listen to the waves as they crash and hit the black rocks then drag back with that fizzy hissing . I catch a breath , surely if I start to cry I will never stop. The intensity of this experience is deeply spiritual. So, question to self: if that deep grief is unquestionably a reality, not just in my mind but through my whole body then maybe I need to trust those happiness bubbles and believe that they too are real? Day 1. Walk 1. Leave home at 06.15 Corralejo Fuertaventura February 2026 There is street lighting against a pitch black sky and not a soul around. I put my iPods in and play my latest music P!nk ( why did I only learn about her now aged 74) the beat sinks into my body and I start to walk towards the sea front with a force in my step that I don’t recognise . The combination of the music and the ocean air hits me like a high really deep inside. The darkness, the solitude and the smell of seaweed the dampness in the air shrouding me in a cape of joyful energy. Happiness. “Happiness “ now here’s the thing, How do I manage these bubbles of happiness that keep rising in my chest? Happiness that I haven’t felt for such a long long time. I need to feel reality to be sure that these feelings are not just mental games in my traumatised volatile mind . Let’s get back to the walk. I walk for 40 minutes down to the port and beyond, my leg letting me lead the way, will I pay the consequences later- or maybe not. I’ve decided to just go with it. The early morning workers who make a tourist spot work are starting to arrive, the laundry , the catering companies. In Bars and restaurants floors are being washed , chairs on the beach brushed down. There is a very gentle movement into the day. Where is the sun rise I rose so early to catch? . I’m early and the sky is overcast a misty drizzle wraps me up again. The sky is now a dense indigo the harbour lights twinkle . I remove the iPods and listen to the waves as they crash and hit the black rocks then drag back with that fizzy hissing . I catch a breath , surely if I start to cry I will never stop. The intensity of this experience is deeply spiritual. So, question to self: if that deep grief is unquestionably a reality, not just in my mind but through my whole body then maybe I need to trust those happiness bubbles and believe that they too are real? Share

Thank you to Mr Stephen Cannon MBE AKA Mr C.

Saturday 7th Mar I guess I need to explain something. I have a distal femur replacement- left leg. I’m on my second one. The first lasted 22 years. I have had a life on two legs.  Share