When I first began to take time out during my lunch breaks to walk about, there was nothing intentional about it – as far as I can remember. It was one of those things which – having happened a few times – felt so good it became self-catalysing, etching itself into my daily routine; becoming as integral a habit as could be. In looking back at my step logs – I am one of those people who wears a wrist band for tracking steps, the Fitbit Charge HR in black being my very own brand of poison in that regard – it appeared to coincide broadly with an office move at work, one which brought with it its own issues. I claim no causal linkages here, I must quickly add.

For most of the second half of January and all of February so far, sometime after 12.00 noon I have half skipped, half walked down the stairs at work, careful to maintain contact with the hand rails at all times to avoid falling foul of the stair Nazis, and then turned right once out of the building. On most days – unusual for this time of the year – it is a relatively dry, sunny walk down Market Street, on to North  Esplanade West street and then up one of any number of roads till I find myself in Union Square and from thence on to work.

On most days, I find that I run across any number of people that I know – R and B, Lycra clad, usually zip past me somewhere on Market street; D saunters past at a more leisurely pace, but fast enough to pass me on my walk, S sometimes rides past on his bicycle. Occasionally, a lot more over the last week than before, I pass my friend K in Union Square, he is usually just heading out when I am on my return journey. When I do, we stop and have a natter, musing about  whatever gets our attention that day, usually work related.

This, this ambling about, is how fifteen to twenty minutes of my lunch hour vanishes, I suspect that I am beginning to look forward to them, perhaps need them, as a counterpoint to the steady plodding away at work…