Home From Home – Day 4

Oh dear. I’d thought I’d missed the rest of the summer by going to Britain, but today is hot and humid. Ugh! I’ll try and pretend I’m back on Day 4 … after the walk!


He says, “We’ll get a short walk in before the rain starts.” Actually, you were wondering whether to give your feet a rest from those boots, but seven-and-a-half kilometres – how bad can that be? You cover your sores with the plasters you had the good sense to purchase yesterday.

It’s better than yesterday’s walk. There’s an actual path to walk along, except for where you have to skirt the bogs. After an hour or so, you catch up to see him scanning the map.

He looks up. “Where are we?”

This doesn’t sound good. “What d’you mean?”

“I think we took a wrong turning.”

“Oh dear. So are we going back?”

“I think we can carry on and rejoin the path.”

You put your trust in him. A bad idea. It’s raining. The bogs are getting more numerous. And he says, “Where’s the bridge?”

From the top of a small hill, he looks back down at you. “That looks more hopeful.” When you join him, you spot the bridge. Your relief is short-lived.

A minute later, ahead as always, he says, “That looks less hopeful.” True enough, when you reach the new spot, you see a stream between you and the bridge. You walk up and down and decide there’s nothing for it. You remove your boots and socks, and clamber across the stream over slippery rocks. It’s still raining, but at least the water’s not icy.

He puts his boots on and continues without socks up to the bridge. You fear your feet would complain about that, so you walk barefoot for a little, then sit down on the wet bushes to put on socks and boots.

At the bridge, you eat a sandwich in the rain. “What are we going to do now?”

He gives one of those embarrassed laughs that say, You’re not going to like this, but. “Either we walk back along the road or we try to get back to our original walk.”

It’s another decision he’s already made. But as you head towards a point on the original walk, he looks at the map again. “Actually, this path crosses a stream – the same stream that we crossed before.”

Finally, you put your foot down. [This is where I tried to think of a pun and gave up.] “No. I’m not doing that again.”

Back you go. By the time you reach the main road, it’s raining heavily. The car is two kilometres away. Two cars approach. You stick your arm out. They wizz past. You walk back to the car in heavy rain. He drives home in light rain.

You peel off your clothes, shower, dress and go downstairs to see bright sunshine. Later, you go out to walk round the little harbour. Surely that downpour was imagined. Yet, when you return to your temporary home, the four boots in front of the fire are still soaking wet.


I’m thinking of reverting to first person POV for the rest. Second person is fun for a while, but then it gets tedious. What do you think?

By Miriam Drori

Author, editor, attempter of this thing called life. Social anxiety warrior. Cultivating a Fuji, edition 3, a poignant, humorous and uplifting tale, published with Ocelot Press, January 2023.

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