the corner office

I was out for an early morning walk. I'd turned off a path, popular with dog walkers, and apart from one or two people stirring at a row of houses on a country lane, I'd not seen another person for a mile or two.

I was walking across a field, thinking about this, when I heard voices on the wind. Darn, so much for solitude.

Were they behind me or ahead of me? I couldn't tell. I kept walking, over the field, into a wood, turned left, and then along the side of a valley. Every now and then I'd hear the voices again - they were behind me, closer after I'd stopped to check the map on my phone.

Soon, in addition to the voices, I heard a strange clanging, metallic sound. What on earth was I hearing?

Now, I don't know what the rules are when it comes to optimal personal space while out in the countryside, but unless there are plenty of people about, my own preference is "the whole field". It's awkward and feels rude to turn around and look at people, as though you're letting them know that you know they're there, and perhaps passive-aggressively hinting that you'd rather your morning stroll didn't involve having to turn around to see who was behind you.

And so I kept walking, the occasional voices, the odd clanging, but I didn't look back. Until the suspense was too much, and I allowed myself the briefest of glances as I stopped to admire the view across the valley. I saw two women, and a large labradoodle-like dog gambolling around them, a weird cow-bell like thing on its neck.

On we went, half-a-field apart. My imagination soon kicked in. My mind went to the lyrics of an old Robert Johnson song, "got to keep moving" ... it had been the briefest of glances, and was I wrong? Had I imagined the bell, or were they chains clanking, and was this lively and cheerful mutt not in fact perhaps a Hellhound on my trail?

Across the next field, amused by this thought (and composing the rudiments of this blog post, I'll admit), and before long I was in woodland again. Still, the voices and occasional clanging, but now, I could make out footsteps approaching, fast. Again, too awkward to turn around and look, but not the ladies and the dog, surely? (unless they were truly after me?)

Eventually the footsteps were very close. I decided to stop, stepped off the path, ostensibly to check my map, and looked up. A woman, in black lycra, a yummy mummy in the vernacular, full make up and duck lips. "Thank yeeeeew", she smiled as she steamed past.

I set off, but very soon after, was overtaken again. This time a man, shortish, walking fast, grey hair, stylishly cut, fashionable but awkwardly-fitting tracksuit bottoms, and expensive-looking white trainers not designed for countryside mud. Was he yummy mummy's partner, battling to keep up, I wondered? A slightly breathless "mornin'" and he was past me, too.

A few minutes later I reached a fork in the path. I went left. Cerberus and his keepers must have gone right; soon, I heard them no more.

A few days later, I was out walking again, somewhere else. I heard the same clanging, but this time, it was a little old lady, and the bell was on a fox terrier. Doggie fashion these days, I guess, though I've not heard that sound since.