<p>Let’s admit it – isn’t it to the doctor that we, at least most of us, owe our morning walk? Not because we love the pleasures of walking less, but because we love ourselves more, losing that precious gift of health to our sheer laziness! And so it was that I was found dragging myself out of the cosy comfort of the quilt and somnambulating to the nearest park one Sunday morning. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Brooding over the loss of the sub-lime moments between slumber and awakening, I let myself in through the narrow turnstile of the park. Eyelids laden with sleep, the first round of less than quarter of a kilometer seemed endless. The second did not seem so bad and the third, not bad at all. By the time I reached the sixth, I was wide awake and conscious of the surroundings to which I had been hitherto oblivious. <br /><br />Hues of flaming orange, pretty purple, bright yellow and deep maroon interspersed with shades of green glistening with dew in a bid to seduce the early risers, in all their glorious splendour. The gentle breeze that whiffed past sent a tingling sensation to the foliage and the leaves began to quiver tantalisingly like shy maidens tickled at the slightest touch. The twittering of birds rose with it like excited bridesmaids. Withdrawing to a stone bench beneath the trees, I flopped down to relish nature, and with it, the early morning walkers. <br /><br />Sporting a complete athlete’s attire was a young man jogging at a steady pace with a bottle of water in one hand. Behind him were two middle-aged women who ambled their way along. The man who came not far behind had all the markings of the forces as he walked briskly, head held high in true army style. Following him closely was a couple who seemed in a hurry to finish their morning walk before submitting to the demands of the day. A boy (apparently their son) waddled along grudgingly, disgruntled perhaps at being dragged out on an empty stomach. <br /><br />Next came the all too familiar gentlemen past their sixties who sauntered, seriously discussing matters of state. A pair of lovers strode leisurely, happy to snatch a few delightful moments together. A young girl, earphones plugged in and mobile held firmly in hand, strutted by prettily. Pushing past forty lumbered a man who appeared determined to shed the mounds of flesh piled round his midriff. <br /><br />Quite at ease in the nine yards that covered her slender frame, an elderly woman shuffled along at her own pace. Moving falteringly, stopping now and then to pluck the yellow flowers and ferns that dotted the pathway was an old man, his face, a picture of peace… Was I asleep or was this a waking dream?<br /><br />A warm sensation on my arm of the rising sun streaming through the leaves and the sound of a distant factory siren announcing the end of night vigil drew me out of the lovely scene, reminding me of the busy day ahead, and I left, not without a tinge of regret. <br /></p>
<p>Let’s admit it – isn’t it to the doctor that we, at least most of us, owe our morning walk? Not because we love the pleasures of walking less, but because we love ourselves more, losing that precious gift of health to our sheer laziness! And so it was that I was found dragging myself out of the cosy comfort of the quilt and somnambulating to the nearest park one Sunday morning. <br /><br /></p>.<p>Brooding over the loss of the sub-lime moments between slumber and awakening, I let myself in through the narrow turnstile of the park. Eyelids laden with sleep, the first round of less than quarter of a kilometer seemed endless. The second did not seem so bad and the third, not bad at all. By the time I reached the sixth, I was wide awake and conscious of the surroundings to which I had been hitherto oblivious. <br /><br />Hues of flaming orange, pretty purple, bright yellow and deep maroon interspersed with shades of green glistening with dew in a bid to seduce the early risers, in all their glorious splendour. The gentle breeze that whiffed past sent a tingling sensation to the foliage and the leaves began to quiver tantalisingly like shy maidens tickled at the slightest touch. The twittering of birds rose with it like excited bridesmaids. Withdrawing to a stone bench beneath the trees, I flopped down to relish nature, and with it, the early morning walkers. <br /><br />Sporting a complete athlete’s attire was a young man jogging at a steady pace with a bottle of water in one hand. Behind him were two middle-aged women who ambled their way along. The man who came not far behind had all the markings of the forces as he walked briskly, head held high in true army style. Following him closely was a couple who seemed in a hurry to finish their morning walk before submitting to the demands of the day. A boy (apparently their son) waddled along grudgingly, disgruntled perhaps at being dragged out on an empty stomach. <br /><br />Next came the all too familiar gentlemen past their sixties who sauntered, seriously discussing matters of state. A pair of lovers strode leisurely, happy to snatch a few delightful moments together. A young girl, earphones plugged in and mobile held firmly in hand, strutted by prettily. Pushing past forty lumbered a man who appeared determined to shed the mounds of flesh piled round his midriff. <br /><br />Quite at ease in the nine yards that covered her slender frame, an elderly woman shuffled along at her own pace. Moving falteringly, stopping now and then to pluck the yellow flowers and ferns that dotted the pathway was an old man, his face, a picture of peace… Was I asleep or was this a waking dream?<br /><br />A warm sensation on my arm of the rising sun streaming through the leaves and the sound of a distant factory siren announcing the end of night vigil drew me out of the lovely scene, reminding me of the busy day ahead, and I left, not without a tinge of regret. <br /></p>
