Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Seventy – Surrey under 40s Ramblers

I sent a text: ‘I’m under the clock, next to the information office’.

I was meeting Hayley at London Waterloo station. Hayley was an internet date. During our first date (which took place a day after the Vegan Meetup) Hayley told me that she was ‘in training’ for a hiking holiday. On a whim, I invited her to the next Surrey Under 40s Ramblers event (which I could now go to, since my foot-on-laptop-power-supply injury had healed), and to my surprise, she accepted. In fact, I wasn’t sure whether she accepted because the ‘date’ was a hike (and she had planned to go on a hike anyway), or whether it was the prospect of my sparkling conversation.

After a fifty minute train journey we found ourselves in a village called Great Bookham. I was thoroughly kitted out: I had a hat, gloves, two rounds of sandwiches, two chocolate bars, a bottle of water, a spare pair of socks, a waterproof jacket, special hiking trousers, stout hiking boots and a packet of plasters just in case I got a blister. We found a group of approximately twenty people, all wearing sensible hiking clothing, standing in the train station car park. After ten minutes of waiting around for someone who didn’t turn up, we set off.

The day was overcast, and rain was forecast, but we didn’t mind. I had a similar feeling to the one I had when I went on the mystery hike: I was pleased for the opportunity to get out of the city, to see some green fields, and to see an environment that wasn’t always busy with buildings.

After chatting all the way from London Waterloo to Bookham, Hayley and I started to chat with different members of the group. This is another aspect to hiking that I enjoy; the opportunity to have conversations with strangers. When I meet people on the street in London, conversations are invariably about how to get somewhere; conversations that often seem to be little more than exchanges of information.

Sally was a physics teacher who worked at a private school in Guildford. For fifteen minutes, we shared stories about students, and empathised with each other about the perpetual academic tyranny that is continual assessment and marking.

I decided to ask Sally a question. ‘I remember different types of energy from my GCSE physics classes: there is chemical, electrical, potential and kinetic… have I missed any?’

‘There’s sound and light.’

‘Ah yes, of course. There isn’t any “thought” energy is there?’ I asked, remembering The Law of Attraction Meetup.

Sally laughed. ‘No! There isn’t any “thought” energy!’

We found ourselves at a small brook. By the time we had navigated our way around it, the configuration of the walk had changed. Sally was deep in conversation with someone else and I found myself walking next to Lottie. Lottie had studied English and now had a job supporting the local judiciary. She had been on a number of these walks and was a member of the Ramblers Association, the organisation that ran the walk.

After following some single track paths, we all found ourselves in a clearing, where we regrouped for a few minutes. I asked a couple of people about the organiser and was introduced to Dan, who was a tall man in his late thirties, who had wild overgrown hair and steel rimmed glasses. I introduced myself, shook his hand, confessed to being over forty, and told him why I was there. Dan didn’t seem to mind. He just said: ‘I’m glad you could make it along today’.

We found our way to a pub, where we ordered teas, coffees, soft drinks and beer. After the break, Hayley and I walked with each other for the remainder of the day. Hayley had asked me about the groups I had been on since I had last seen her. I told her about the film networking and the weirdness of my visit to South Kensington.

‘How does this one compare with all the other things you’ve been going on?’ asked Hayley.

‘This one has been really nice. I’ve enjoyed it. All of them have been fun or interesting in different ways’ I replied, before launching into the story about how I came to visit the Orgasmic Meditation group.

‘Well… This one is a whole lot more sensible’, I concluded, suddenly realising that a third date was now probably unlikely.

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