By: Blonde Two
We have had some lovely responses to yesterday’s ironic song blog and they got me asking myself a question along the lines of – do I have a walking song?
I have never got into the habit of listening to music whilst out walking – for a start, Blonde One and I are usually far too busy setting the world to rights. I sing out on the moors but usually only if I am scared – singing has long been a defence mechanism for me, in my kayaking days I could often be heard singing a rousing chorus of “Rule Britannia” as I negotiated the Dart’s smaller rapids (or they negotiated me, I don’t think I was in charge).
Edward Elgar wrote lovely music and was inspired by the Malvern Hills. I grew up there and we were played a lot of Elgar at home and at school. In my head, therefore, the moment I hear the opening bars of “Nimrod” I am back striding up the Worcestershire Beacon as I am sure he was when he wrote it. There is a definite gasp in the music as he reaches the top of the hill and sees the view.
There is one other tune that I associate with walking – and I do it on a very emotional level (eyes filling with tears as I type). You probably won’t get it unless you have experienced it (and you should aim to at least once). At five o’clock on the morning of the first day of the Ten Tors event, 2,000 youngsters and their very proud grown-ups are woken to the tinny sound of “Chariots of Fire” being played across the army tannoy system. The pride at being involved in this event is enormous and although I am usually wielding a frying pan and spatula by this time, I manage to take a moment to stop and listen – and I have a sneaky tear or ten. There we go … wet keyboard. I told you …