Another trek...

So, today, after a relatively easy shift at work, I hurried home, eager to get a couple of hours sleep, ready for the christmas do that our work are having.

I woke up an hour in advance, got all my stuff ready, got myself tarted up and looking sexeh, insofar as it's possible for me to look sexeh, and I got a taxi to the christmas do. We had rented the function room of a fairly large pub locally (relatively locally, as you'll see later), and everyone had turned up.
And that was it.

It was a good christmas do - some lads and ladies from work showed their previously undiscovered talent as dancers, some even managed to present themselves as good singers - one bloke, who previously had just kinda settled into a corner and been ignored, proved himself to be not only a good, but an absolutely fantastic singer. This guy was very, very good.

Anyway, skipping all the boring crap about work, the christmas do finished eventually, after a good five hours of drinking. Yes, time eventually came to get a taxi home.
So I phoned the local taxi firm...

"Sorry love, we don't have anyone in that area".
Fine, fair enough, I phoned another one.
"Sorry love, we don't have anyone in that area", as a smirk/drunken grin crossed my face.
Okay, here's another firm.
"Sorry love, we don't have anyone in that area".
Oooooookay.
Next. The bartender comes up with another number "not many people use this one".
"Sorry love, we don't have anyone in that area".
Yes, I can see why.

Eventually, a cross between desperation, masculine bravado, and drunken bloody-mindedness win out, and I proudly declare that I am going to walk home. Okay, so it's 1:20am, It's 0.5c (about 33f) outside, and I'm six miles from home. The alcohol and testosterone in my blood override my self preservation, and against all protests, I set off out the door.

Fortunatley a random minibus came my way, and with some work colleagues, I was able to hitch a lift to the next local town, Wentworth. I confirmed my position, and with an intake of breath and the sort of determination that only the most potent mix of testosterone and alcohol can give, I gritted my teeth, and set off in the direction of home, to dramatic music, written and conducted by hans zimmer. Okay, maybe not then.

For some random reason, I decided to jog, and jog I did. The jog broke into a run, and as the cold wind blew the sweat off my face (does it sound dramatic? good. I'm drunk. Indulge me), I took in the sights. I was running through rural England. The city lights of the local towns, ten or so miles away, as well as the brighter but fewer lights of the smaller villages close by. Yes, for some random reason, I was running, one foot after the other, left, right, left, right. My lungs might have been protesting, my legs might have been tired, I did not feel a single thing. I spose due to the alcohol, my senses were deadened, and I powered on and on through the countryside, singlemindedly running home. Ridiculous in retrospect, at the time I felt like a man on a mission.

My running slowed and I slowed to a jog, which quickly gave way to walking as I walked past a local field which I knew to contain horses. I figured I'd try my luck, and as I held my hand out over the fence, clicking through my teeth, I was pleased to see three horses look up from their grass, and walk, towards me.
What followed was, I suppose, weird. Three horses came to the fence to meet me, one small horse, completely white, with one slightly larger brown horse, and one much larger brown horse with a white blaze. I spose they must have been happy for the company, as they took it in turns to nuzzle me, poking their heads through and over the fence, looking at me with their huge eyes.
I petted each horse in turn, each looking back at me, occasionally grunting or snorting as I petted the head and of each animal. Each walked alongside the fence, perfectly happy for me to pet each of them in turn. Occasionally, each of the animals would snort and nuzzle the fence as if for attention. I spose I stayed there for fifteen minutes, it could have been thirty, I lost count. The city lights twinkled in the distance, the occasional car went past, a quiet breeze blew over the field every now and again, but I was just there with the horses nuzzling me and me petting the horses in return.
It was weird. I have had little experience with horses, and for these three to trust me enough to get close to them, close enough to pet them, I dunno, to those of you who ride horses regularly, it might be funny, but to me, it was special, almost like each of these huge creatures had taken to me.

Eventually though, I managed to make the concious decision to press on, and I ran again, from wentworth, down the hill, round the bend in the road, up the next hill and then into Harley. Past a hundred houses, windows dark, occupants asleep, with the occasional set of blinking christmas lights, twinkling merrily away, as if to remind me that this is indeed a special time of year.

I left that village and ran up the next hill - a biggie, no mean feat, I ran to the first crest, a sub-crest, if you like, as the path dipped gently before rising into the hil at a steep side. Getting to the top, crossing the motorway, I took a minute or two to look over the rail at the trucks, vans, cars and motorcycles, even at this late hour, powering up the motorway to destinations unknown, maybe to waiting families, maybe to anxious warehouse managers, maybe to holiday camps, each single vehicle contained at least one person, each with his own agenda, each planning to spend christmas in his or her own way...

Eventually, I came to a downhill slope, and again, I ran all the way into the next town, reflecting on how quiet my footsteps were now I'd learned how to run properly, and how little my shins actually hurt.

I walked up to the other side of the town, and again up a steep hill.
"I'm gonna run uphill to that bus stop" I said to myself.
And off I went. My legs started aching. My chest started aching, my throat went dry.
My legs started burning, my breathing gave way to gasping, my lower back turned into a seething mass of pain, and still I carried on. I remember the pain at the time as I ran up this hill towards that goal, almost as if someone was pulling it away from me as I ran.
I ran and ran, and I got there. I know I got there, I checked.

And from there it was all downhill, almost literally. I walked along as a hooded figure walked towards me. I stared him in the eyes, not enough to be hostile, just enough to let him know I'd clocked him. I was used to getting trouble round here, and if push came to shove, I just wanted to make it clear that having walked several miles up several hills, etc etc, I wasn't going to let some random dude stop me from getting home. Fine, fair enough. "Hiya mate" he says as he walked past....

...and I got home. So here I am. There is that drunken diatribe right there.
Fine, it might sound enchanted and special, or it could sound incoherent, macho and drunken. I'll let you decide.
It's been a good night.

So I'm here now, I've got a three day weekend up ahead. More of my gems have arrived (yay) and now I'm just going to chill out and have a shower...

Still, I spose I saved £10/$20 on taxi fare :)

Peace all...