Craic On

The superlight walking poles have really come into their own since round three of lockdown. I’ve spent the last year perfecting my cane and pole techniques and I’ve been feeling pretty smug about where they have landed. I’m choosing my words carefully here. I could never have imagined converting the cane or the pole in a way that you might hanker after a nice bit of cashmere or a beautiful silk, but I have caught myself on line shopping for both. It might be a sign of old age. I’ve noticed that I’ve also started talking to the Son about people he doesn’t know and never will. I do this as he’s turning puce with pleasure as he explains how to switch my autoreply on and off for the umpteenth time. This morning I sent him a photo of a graveyard because I thought the view was rather nice. It could be that all this pole and cane action is not encroaching age but the shift from a cerebral way of getting around to one that is more sensory, more rooted in my body. This theory is supported by a range of what you