DESPITE the shoddy weather, we ventured out into the Peak District at the weekend for a brisk stroll and to fill our lungs with the fresh, countryside air.
It was all very pleasant indeed, apart from one thing - ramblers.
Our little walk took us along the Monsal Trail, which follows the route of a former railway line.
As such it is a fairly easy walk, it’s flat, and it’s even paved.
I’d even go as far to say it’s easier going than walking around Worksop town centre.
So I was flabbergasted to see hordes of ramblers, walking in twos, kitted out as if they were setting out for Everest base camp.
Thermals, waterproofs, hiking boots, woolly hats, and most preposterously of all, walking poles.
Sir Ranulph Feinnes doesn’t even use half as much gear when he’s trekking single-handed to the North Pole.
In contrast, there was I , appropriately dressed in linen slacks and deck shoes.
And why do these ramblers insist on bellowing ‘hello’ at the top of their lungs when you walk past them? I don’t know them from Adam.