Walking to school

Unless it is raining or one of the kids tells me that, at 8.30am, that they need to be at school at 8.30am for an excursion, we walk to school. 

It is a nice walk usually. Long enough that if we set off at a cracking pace that I can get ye olde heart rate going and count it as my daily exercise. Particularly because on the way back, I snake around the back streets, huffing and puffing like Thomas the Tank Engine.

This morning though, it was not off to a good start as the boys were so pissy at each other, I eventually crossed the street and walked by myself. Out of earshot.
Most of the ladies walking their kids to school are wearing gym clothes. I do not want to put my neighbourhood through the unsightly scene of these legs encased with black lycra. They also carry water bottles.

I carried a basket as I needed to go to the uniform shop and get winter stuff. I also noted, when I took this shot, that my jeans totally look like MOM JEANS.

I got to the uniform shop and dropped an obscene bundle on winter clothes. I thought about the boots that I could have bought.

As I was thinking that, another Mum said to me, “Imagine the boots you could have bought….” and I stared at her. Creepy mind reading lady…..

I began to snake my way home. I took this selfie and realised someone needed to get their roots done.

I walked fast, all the while trying to get my zen on, trying to erase the manic-ness of the morning squabbles, and searching for the endorphins that everyone is aways banging on about as a result of exercise. 

Well, my pathetic attempt at it anyway.

The neighbourhood is leafy and flowery. It is totally pleasant.

And I still feel like an intruder. I miss the noise and the traffic and the business of my old hood.

I miss the houses lined up like dominos.

I artfully and skilfully dodge the worlds biggest dog shit.

Labradors are the dogs of choice here in Pleasantville and they shit like elephants. Elephants who have been on a solid diet of prunes and curry.

Finally, I reach the cheap streets down the back and look at our little boxy house, which despite having a lot of work done on it, continues to throw up challenges. Like last night when the water taps burst and I spent an hour and 12 towels mopping up.

Alan is coming back today to whip her into shape.

What would a walk in your neighbourhood look like?
And how can you ignore your dog while it punches out a turd like that?