Monday, April 27, 2015

Hearing footsteps behind you

I make little agreements with myself when I'm walking. 
'Get to the top of  the hill before you eat a mint.'
'The top top or the half top?'
'Top top.'
Quarter way up

A little while later, 'Actually I may not make it to the top top so half top will be fine.'

I have a slight snuffly cold that I would blame for my puffing and panting if it weren't for the fact that I always puff and pant up the hill but I like to think my panting were just a bit huskier and sexier today. Then again I do have a vivid imagination.

There was nobody there to hear me anyway. It's very quiet in the woods. Now that the man who lived in a tent has moved on we very rarely see anyone. So that made hearing footsteps behind me a little scary.

I'd reached the top of the hill (hooray, have a mint!) and was walking along when I became aware of a noise behind me. The sound of steps following me. Heavy steps treading through the undergrowth. The sort of sound a large man would make. A large man with an evil gleam in his eyes and a sharpened meat cleaver in his hand. That sort of noise.

I called George to come and rescue me. He glanced back at me, shrugged and carried on walking. I could see it was up to me.

I plucked up my courage and looked around.

And realised the noise came from the poo bag I'd tied onto the camera bag and that was sashaying to and fro. 


nick said...

Strange unidentified sounds can be remarkably scary. Things that go bump in the night, as they say.

The mint scenario brings another memory to my ancient mind - "Murraymints, the too-good-to-hurry mints". And of course Polo, the mint with the hole.

Liz Hinds said...

And fruit polo. Do they still make those I wonder.

Rose said...

Ha, ha, I'm certainly glad it was just a poo bag and not a man with a cleaver:) If George is anything like Sophie, I'm not sure he would have been much protection. I always say that if someone broke into our house, Sophie would welcome them and offer to show them all our valuables:)