Some rather unfortunate hikers

All that horror came on top of what has to be the most hilarious, yet tragic, five hours i’ve ever spent in the company of other actual human beings. My friend Katy and I, in the spirit of gung-ho singledom, had signed up to do a singles hike. Yes, that’s a hike for single people.

We fondly imagined sturdy thirtysomething blokes (possible ex university rugby players) clad in manly cagoules and interesting stubble, with a fondness for a good pint and bracing walk across a few fields. Who also were capable of stimulating conversation and armed with a great sense of humour.

What we actually GOT, however, was a straggly collection of men – and I use that word in its loosest sense – aged between 35 and 55, with varying degrees of social ineptness. They all looked identical: balding, slightly out of shape (some more so than others) and wearing glasses. Some men clearly had never spent time in the company of women they were’t either related to, or worked with, in their lives. They had a strange, resigned, defeated look, coupled with a glimmer of hope that, by dint of sharing a whole field with a few members of the opposite sex, they’d somehow strike up a relationship by osmosis. Because they barely spoke. Unless it was to talk about their commute to work, or the route they actually took by car to get to Oxfordshire (where said hike was taking place).

The standard of women was much, much higher, with a high incidence of violet lipstick and designer sunglasses, and it was obvious no-one, but no-one, would be swapping phone numbers after the walk. Except with other members of their own gender; Katy and I made friends with a lovely American girl and a mad Aussie, and suffice to say that the walk was made more bearable by their company….

Anyway, I’ll stop now. It’s only the first post after all. I’m sure there will be several more in the future. If the mice don’t eat through my computer cable, that is…