'Get to the top of the hill before you eat a mint.'
'The top top or the half 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.