Walking and Writing

I've just spent two full weeks at home with my husband and sons over Christmas. In that time we've been on loads of lovely walks - along the cliffs and beach near our home in Bournemouth, over Hengistbury Head - the peninsular between the Bournemouth beach and Christchurch harbour, in the New Forest, and through the suburbs and streets into the town centre.

Sons at Hengistbury Head

Some days the weather was glorious - crisp cold days when the sun glints off the sea. Others were grey and overcast but still with a subdued beauty of their own.

My family are all keen on walking. When with others you can chat or fall silent, enjoying the surroundings. When alone you can let your mind wander. I often find myself writing a chapter of my work-in-progress, or a blog post, or planning a new novel as I walk.

I've used walking as a therapy in the past. I remember returning home feeling stressed after settling my mum back into her home after she'd had a prolonged spell in hospital. I was on call for work and had an outstanding call I needed to deal with - I'd thought I should just log onto my computer straight away and sort out the problem. But my husband said no, you need a bit of time for yourself first, and he insisted I go out for a walk with him, along the cliffs and back along the beach. By the time I'd done this I felt so much better, able to check in with work with a clear head, and glory of glories, found that someone else had solved the problem.

Once a year we head up to the Lake District with friends for a week's more serious walking in the fells. There's nothing better than the feeling of stretching muscles as you climb, each step taking you a little higher and further than the last; the sense of accomplishment when you reach the summit cairn; the glorious views from the top. Sadly with my aging knees the descent is not so pleasurable, but so far walking poles plus knee supports plus ibuprofen get me down safely.

With my husband in the Lake District

The Lake District has provided me with inspiration for my novels - especially The Drowned Village which is based on a reservoir remarkably like Haweswater, and its submerged abandoned village.

So, in the spirit of 'new year, new you,' why not try walking more? Walk to the shops for that extra pint of milk instead of hopping in the car. Walk to your friends' houses. Walk to the restaurant for your night out. Or just walk for the sake of it, to give yourself a half hour or so away from work/writing/chores. You'll return feeling exercised and refreshed and altogether more able to face the world.

Maybe I'm preaching to the converted here - maybe you're all walkers anyway. But if you're not, give it a go. It's a form of exercise that can be done anywhere, costs nothing, requires no training to get in shape for, and which brings all sorts of health benefits, both mental and physical.

Happy New Year, and happy walking!