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The inspiration for this was a cold I caught last week. Not much of a cold but enough to annoy me because I needed to stay in to nurse it, hence not walk as much as I normally do. Before I go on, I should say that I consider myself to be a natural walker and I have always walked as much as I could, often because my body was telling me to but always because I found great pleasure in it. You probably are a natural walker too, and you either know it or have prioritised different things and your body dislikes you for it, irrespective of whether this “disliking” has become obvious to you yet.

Now, back to the walking. Today, I felt a bit better and went out for a walk and after the first two hours everything started to feel very normal again, my digestion, heart rhythm, feeling in the bones and muscles, breathing etc. Additional bonus, all the disgusting substances that gathered in the lungs, throat and nose the last few days started to leave it, with little elegance, I do admit (…apologies for the graphic images you may have got). At the end of two hours, I got back quite a lot of energy that had left me because of the cold. I got home and wanted to do things that involved more walking, so I decided that I would collect all the coins in the flat and walk to the bank to deposit them. Now, this needs a little explanation. This is something I do once a month and works like this: From the floor, from coin mugs (of which I have two) and from all my clothes, I collect all the coins, put them in a plastic cup the size of a tumbler and take them to the bank, to the “deposit coins here” ATM. What happens there is, I put the coins in a receptacle, the ATM separates the British coins from all the others, (mainly Euro coins, of which there are always many in my deposits), discards in another receptacle below, without even recognising their existence, the foreign ones in an act of despicable nationalist delirium that would make extreme right-wing supporters blush, and then tells me that “the coins” come to whatever amount they come to, “do I agree?”, I do, and then deposits this amount to my account, sucks the good, British coins into the abyss of the banking system and that’s that. I pick up the unwanted economic immigrant coins and go home.

What happened this time however was this: I walked towards the bank and just before I got there, there was a man sitting by the pavement, asking passers-by for any spare change. I thought, well, I wouldn’t call it “spare” but I have a lot of change with me so I went to him and asked if he would do the following: I’d leave him my coins for a while, and what he’d need to do is separate them, keep the British coins and, when I passed on my way back, give me back the foreign ones, which, I automatically assumed were not his primary target anyway. I thought, well, I’ll walk some more, and I’ll have done a good deed and if he takes the money and runs, well, so be it. I showed him the cup.

He said “can’t you just give me the English money mate?”

I couldn’t. I took the cup and money to the bank. All £19.17 of it.

The moral of the story is this: Sometimes, Johnnie Walker has the best advice: Keep Walking.

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