An exciting Easter adventure*

*exciting by the standards of my life ie not really exciting at all

As part of my half-hearted attempt to lose weight in time for the Leavers' Ball and, more importantly, my brother's wedding, I have endeavoured to go for a brisk half-hour walk on any day I can. Walking may not be the most exciting of physical activities, but seeing as the only sports I don't hate require vast amounts of snow or a trampoline, walking seemed the most cost-effective and least bothersome exercise option. Besides, it's not actually that bad; I'm a brisk walker naturally so it's hardly strenuous, and it's an opportunity to get a lit of thinking done.

After a week of non-eventful circuits of the village, Sunday morning I decided to do something a little more adventurous. Heading away from civilisation, I decided to taks a right at the little farm road I'd often passed, but never been down before. The possibilities of what I might discover there were vivid and enticing in my mind: an incredible natural beauty spot, perhaps? A mysterious shack buried amidst the trees? A burned-out car-husk, at the very least.

Of course, what I actually discovered was nothing at all, not even the tiniest shred of some half-forgotten mystery or secret or scandal but, unfazed, I decided to continue my wander down the road in the hope that eventually something interesting would turn up. I emerged, blinking, on to a deserted A-road, with rolling fields in every direction and the only buildings on the distant horizon. Knowing near enough where I was (on the A418), I decided to turn right, and keep on walking until I saw a turning into the village- however long that would take.

The sun was mercilessly bright for an early April day, and I had not taken any provisisions with me. I walked along the shade-less roadside for what felt like days, sweat dripping off me, always praying to see a friendly road sign pointing to Haddenham around the next bend- but to no avail. I was sun-dazed, disorientated, and a little peeved at the number of times I had nearly been shmushed flat by passing cars, for A-roads have no pavements for weary travellers to walk along.

After many more mental hours of trudging, I finally spied a sign in the distance; not the road-sign as I had hoped for, but a tiny, mud-caked affair declaring 'public footpath'. I scrutinised the way it pointed to: a rusty overgrown gate, with a tiny gap between its two sides. It did not look promising. However, at the rate at which I was going, it looked like several years would be necessary to reach the crossroads I so longed for. This dubious footpath appeared to be my only salvation. So, squeezing through the ageing metal and brutal plants, I stumbled on.

The supposed public footpath instantly vanished. I was now in some stranger's field in the middle of nowhere, with only my house key to protect myself. I imagined a trench-coated farmer with a black-toothed, slack-jawed mouth and antique shotgun bellowing that I get off his damn property, firing rounds after me as I struggled to get away. I had to get out of this field, fast. I walked along parallel to the hedge, as far away as possible from the grim-looking huts on the other side of the field. However, upon reaching a boundary, I was forced to turn and walk deeper into the field of my doom- and on the wind came the sound of men, talking and laughing.

I had to keep on going; turn back on to the road, and I may have ended up staying on it forever. I braced myself and marched towards the male voices, my hand shaking as it grasped the key in my pocket for whatever little comfort it bestowed. I could see them now- about five of them, one with a large straw hat, all stood in a line and staring at the sky. As they became aware of me, I could see them turn to stare. The leader, Fat-straw-hat, approached.

'Hello there!' he called. 'Have you come to see the gliders, or are you just out for a walk?'

They were not scary occultists or some kind of sinister society, but a bunch of gliding enthusiasts out on Haddenham airfield, enjoying their favourite hobby in the brilliant Easter sunshine. I explained my predicament and Fat-straw-hat explained how I could get home, one of his minions even offering to give me a lift. (I declined; just because one man had seemd genuinely kind and friendly didn't mean I'd suddenly start jumping in strange men's cars.) So, with a cheerful wave, I followed the man's instructions and ended up in Haddenham business park. Five minutes later, a sight I had oft dreamed about in these desperate times greeted me: my road!

I power-walked the last stretch home, and burst through the front door, hot, sweaty and tired. One hour and fifteen minutes later, my exciting adventure had reached its end, just in time for lunch. As I tucked into my salmon, I thanked the heavens above for protecting me on my perilous journey, and beseeched them to be similarly caring on whatever future quests I should find myself upon.