Ears Wide Open

It was 15^th April 2020 (day 23 of UK Coronavirus lockdown). As someone who worked in a charity call-centre during the day, Walter (‘I prefer Walt’) could only get out for a bit of exercise in the evenings with his dog. Obviously, the pandemic issues were a problem, but on the plus side the weather had generally been very good since everything went pear-shaped, so the walks were much more enjoyable now. As a bonus, the amount of cars on the road had reduced substantially. His lungs and ears would benefit as well as his heart.

Walking gave Walt time to think. Sometimes it was the important things that he thought about. For example, why are there so many cars around? It’s not a big town. For most people, work finished a couple of hours ago. There’s nowhere for these people to go. These were recurrent, usually when Walt wanted to cross a main road. It was difficult enough without a dog. Other times it was trivial matters that concerned him. Who decides how wide car park spaces should be? Is it against the law to photograph police cars? All this thinking kept him occupied. The dog wasn’t bothered.

 Walt didn’t have a set route for his daily walk, but with the time limit imposed by the authorities as part of lockdown he restricted himself to a maximum of one hour each day on one of the four usual routes he used. If he was feeling a bit giddy, he sometimes reversed one of his usual routes. It was like developing an additional route to the four currently favoured, but with the added frisson of it being slightly different and therefore somehow more exciting. He was considering doing this on the other routes, and was quite looking forward to deciding which one. At work, he’d heard one of his colleagues complaining life was ‘boring’ because of the restrictions. Walt didn’t see it that way. The dog offered no opinion.

 It was a Tuesday night. Walt knew this because he’d had fish fingers for tea. He always had fish fingers for tea on Tuesdays. His mother was a creature of habit, which probably went some way towards explaining why her son was of similar ilk. He set off with the dog from the back gate of his house for his daily walk, dog lead in hand. He’d chosen route number 3 tonight. Statistically, Walt chose this particular route most Tuesdays, but present evaluation suggests an absence of sufficient data to prove or disprove the theory of preferential bias according to food intake. He turned left at the corner of Mulberry Avenue on to Ash Road. As he did so he was thinking about trivial stuff. Should I have cleaned my teeth before setting off? Does my breath smell because of what I ate for my tea?

 At the bottom of Ash Road was Laburnum Road, which led to the canal towpath. Walt generally liked walking along the towpath. It was much quieter than the roads, apart from the joggers who barged past him at regular intervals without apology, consumed by the music in their ears or the demands of their fitness apps. Such ignorance! Of late though, it was as if the daily walk was something only recently invented. The amount of people around had multiplied considerably. Having a dog with him made life slightly more difficult.

 Walt considered his options. The towpath was likely to be busy and, more importantly, narrow. Social distancing was difficult to achieve with water at one side of you and limited space to manoeuvre on the other. Especially with a dog. He decided to branch out along Buchanan Street, which ran parallel to the canal towpath. It wasn’t a diversion he’d taken on his walks before, but he knew the area well enough and was confident he’d not exceed the hour he’d promised his mother would he be away from the house for.

 There were semi-detached houses on both sides of the street. The pavements were quiet, the wonders of a canal towpath more exciting by far than a 1930’s housing development with all the magic that offers to the innocent passer-by. Walt was unconcerned though. He was off his beaten track, taking in the smells and sounds of a pavement less trodden. He savoured things others missed. Someone had eaten curry there. That’s wood-smoke from an open fire.  They are watching the news there. In the great scheme of things, none of this was earth-shattering, but to Walt it allowed a picture to form in his mind of a world slightly different to his. Walt was a dreamer as well as a thinker.

 At the end of Buchanan Street, Walt realised he’d be back on the towpath again. He was enjoying his new world, so impulsively made the decision to swing left through Laird Close, aiming for Dundee Street. You may well be familiar with it. Laird Close had newer, detached properties on one side of the road, with a small junior school on the other. Somehow, to Walt, it was a less interesting road than Buchanan Street. The dog had no preference.

 Walt and the dog made it safely to Dundee Street. They were by now more than halfway through the hour allotted for the walk, so Walt decided they had better go left at Galashiels Parade to get back on track. The housing here was a mixture of old and new, plus some run-down shops. There was also a pub, The Crimson Pirate. Walt remembered his dad used to drink there occasionally before the accident. This thought deflated Walt a little, but he soon rallied and carried on. In truth, the dog wasn’t keen on this part of town and wanted to get away quickly. He pulled against the lead to make sure Walt kept moving.

 Once clear of Galashiels Parade it was plain sailing to get back home. Walt regained control of the speed of the walk as he and a now happier dog sauntered along Smith Road. A left turn to Ash Road would follow; then Mulberry Avenue and home. Someone shouted hello to Walt from the other side of the road. Walt didn’t see who it was, but instinctively raised his arm in acknowledgement. The dog wasn’t interested.

 They arrived back at the house 57 minutes after setting off. The dog celebrated by cocking its leg against a lamp post by the back gate. His mother had been waiting for them to return. She smiled to herself when she saw them walking up the path to the door, which she opened to let them in.

 This was a straightforward journey around a small town with a canal, undertaken by a man and his dog. Nothing overly unusual in that really. So why was Walt’s mother so pleased when they returned safely?

 Walt lost his sight in a car accident when he was 14. He’s 19 now. The dog (named Mitzi if you are interested) is a Guide Dog. It’s the first one Walt has had since going blind. As a kid, Walt was scared of dogs. Getting this far has been a challenge, but Walt has shown steely determination in wanting to get back to as normal a life as possible. Hence the regular walks and route-planning.

 He nearly lost his composure by the pub though. His dad was driving Walt back from there when the accident had happened. Walt may have lost his sight, but his father lost his life.