Walking has become a radical act

We pass through an avenue of horse chestnut trees on our walk to my parents’ house. In autumn, G is compelled to investigate every promising-looking conker. In winter, we crunch the icy mud or kick our way through snow. In spring we might shelter from a passing shower. In summer, we welcome the shade. Whatever the season, we never tire of this walk. Yet choosing to travel a few miles in this way, immersed in our environment instead of cooped up in a car, is now seen by many people as strange and unusual.

Three decades ago I walked through the chestnut avenue on my way to the village school. Walking was normal. We had a car, but that was for my dad to get to work in the city. My mum and I got around most places on foot. When we had to go further afield, we walked up to the bus stop in the village or across the fields to the train station. And we weren’t the only ones; their next-door neighbours moved to this rural location without even owning a car.