Clod-hopper

In summer 2018 I had an operation to fuse joints in my arthritic left foot. Eleven months later the consultant told me it was now probably as much better as it was going to get.

Frankly I was disappointed. My foot was still delicate. However, this winter I have truly got much better, enjoying brisk six mile walks again.

It makes the whole of me feel much better as walking is essential to me.

Walking is my mindfulness exercise. I never isolate myself with headphones. I am aware of wreathes of mist and rays of sunshine. I hear the staccato chirping of goldcrests and long-tailed tits and smell wood smoke from somebody's fire.

Walking also provides creative headspace for my writing. I often puzzle over plot quandaries or spool through the rhythm and order of words I have chosen.

But one of the best things about getting my feet back is being able to go hiking with Carol, Caroline and Diane. I always used to grumble about the clods of clay that adhere to my boots crossing the fields in winter, but this year it felt pretty good to have the muddiest boots in the world.