Back on the coast path

Warmer sunnier weather today, so after promising ourselves an outing to Penarth for the past week and never getting around to it, we drove there this afternoon and walked along the coast path, as far as the one place where you can climb down to the beach seventy metres below. You can see across to the Somerset coast, to Weston, Brean Down and Bleadon Hill, where my sister Pauline lived for forty years. Whenever we walked here before I'd look across the Estuary and think of her, looking across at Glamorganshire from England. Even though she's dead, old habits die hard.

The fields inland from the path looked neglected as if they'd been left fallow this year, or else not planted because of pandemic restrictions on labour. Normally at this time of year they stand high with ripening grain. The path itself showed signs of not having been maintained, broken fencing, overhanging vegetation and a surface which in places had been scoured into rainwater gully making it hard to push anything with wheels on, let alone walk on. It was nice to see three different kinds of butterfly, which is usual along the coast path. Today is Big Butterfly Count nationally, but we didn't take part, as I didn't put the counting app on my phone. I imagine other regular path users will however.

Walkers were good about stepping aside on the narrow parts of the trail to let people pass at a safe distance, always with a hello, a smile and a thank you. At one place where we stopped, I noticed in a space at the back of the hedgerow a metal pipe concreted into the ground, and next to it a concrete cubic construction with an opened hatch on top. My first thought was that it was a well, although it was an odd place to locate one. On closer inspection, there was an iron ladder descending a shaft with a resonant echo. Then it dawned on me. Remnants of World War Two military installations. The solid metal pipe had a mounting plate on top of it, most likely for a gun. Underground, a bunker where soldiers watching the Severn Estuary for invaders or aircraft could shelter from  enemy fire. There are several relics of wartime military infrastructure along this section of path.

When we got back we both admitted how tired we felt although we'd only walked six and a half kilometres. It was my first time to drive since Ibiza and I only tried to change gear with my right hand twice. It was a journey and a walk we've both done many times before so why did we both feel tired? I think it's something to do with the impact of months of confinement on mind and body. You get used to inhabiting a limited environment and have to get used to a degree of freedom and to occupying a place in the wider world again, especially due to circumstances in which fear and self preservation keep you confined. This change demands extra energy and that's tiring.

I went for another short walk after supper. Llandaff Fields again hosted dozens of groups of people, also an informal Asian cricket match, to judge by the language I could hear, plus a group of half a dozen thirty something guys practicing their rugby moves, and keep-fit addicts exercising. As gyms aren't open the parks are much used. Will this change when they re-open, or will outdoor workouts become part of the 'new normal'? Until the weather stays wet and cold for weeks on end maybe, and then we'll be back to worrying about the resurgence of viruses again.