Saturday, 23 November 2019

Exercising Curiously


          The Anglophile Bill Bryson, in his book Mother Tongue, describes the origins, complexity and triumph of the English language, along with some examples of the absurd, illogical quirks it has acquired in the course of its development. The resulting language is “full of booby traps for foreigners”, yet millions of them succeed in mastering it nonetheless. This fact has strengthened my resolve to learn the rudiments of Greek (despite being advised by an Athenian acquaintance not to bother because “we all speak English”). Besides, according to Bill, Greek is augmented by no fewer than seventy body gestures, some of which comprise whole sentences, that I can employ when words fail me.
          Elsewhere in his writings, Bryson describes the Damascene moment of his conversion to “walking”, by which is meant hiking among the hills and dales of the British countryside, a pursuit that I, too, have enjoyed for many years. But, like Bill, I also see value in urban walking: what it lacks in adventurousness, vis-à-vis the vagaries of weather, the challenges of orienteering and one’s state of fitness, it makes up for in points of interest – especially when in one’s own city, where change and developments are of particular concern. And let’s not forget the eco-friendly proposition of not having to drive to a start or end point. Leaving aside the issue of polluted air (something that goes with the territory of city-dwelling anyway), there are days when the brightness of the sky is irresistible and an observant circuit around the city is as rewarding as any bracing stroll along the shore or aerobic haul up a hillside. Straightforward walking is acknowledged to be as much exercise as any body requires to maintain health and wellbeing so, without the bother and distraction of kit, equipment and logistics, a brisk, city-perambulation provides nourishment for both body and mind.
          A recent outing with an old friend and neighbour proved to be just so: we took pleasure in comparing the architectural styles, old and new; we expressed opinions on the viability of new buildings; we discussed urban planning policies; we identified and compared notes on pubs, restaurants and the establishments that identify as “bar & kitchen”; we lingered over coffee at a roastery and devised dreadful punishments for cyclists who ride on pavements. And we like knowing that, by the time we go again, there will be changes to observe.
          Not all change is progress, of course, and what is sometimes called progress is really only greed: the over-development of property for investors at the expense of local housing being an example. It is one of the oddities of England that pubs can hold out against developers longer than other buildings – something to do with the income they generate, perhaps – and there are many small, ancient, pubs crouching between cliffs of modern office blocks, where they thrive, apparently. Elsewhere, others cling on, awaiting the custom that might ensue from the encroaching tide of gentrification. One such is the Jolly Angler, which is trapped in a neglected, run-down corner between canal and railway. Its offering of beer and whisky is as basic as its facilities, but the regular gathering there of Irish musicians brings it to life in a way that fancy cocktails never could. Two minutes’ walk away, but out of sight, is Cultureplex, a multi-million-pound warehouse conversion, which is packed with bright young things consuming sophisticated food and drink to the accompaniment of DJs and with an optional side-offering of discussions, talks and film in adjoining rooms. I like to hope that there is room for both to thrive.
          But, between all this walking and pubbing, there is admin to be done – my online tax return, for example. I left it incomplete, noting HMRC’s deadpan assurance that it is possible to “return to your return” at any time. So, that’s a verb and a noun and respect to all those who TEFL.


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