Christopher Somerville’s A-Z of walking: C

C is for Company Curmudgeon Man – I hear his crusty footfall, coming nearer all the time. Share my water bottle? Well, why the bloody hell didn’t you bring your own? Do you good to go without. Teach you a lesson, won’t it? Trainers? Don’t talk to me about trainers. When I started, it was all hobnails round here. Yes, yes, pretty view – now where’s the path? Tired? Don’t know the meaning of the word. Look, if you’ve got nowt worth saying, then say nowt… Hmmm. Not too attractive, that mirror held up to nature. Where does he come from, this bad old bear in his self-excavated lair? And why does he grab hold of so many walkers, round about a certain birthday with a big zero on the end? It’s not as if we aim to fall victim to Curmudgeon Man. I love company out walking – at least, I think I do. The banter, the joshing, the arm along the road, figuratively if not physically. The questioning and challenges, the exhortations to look at this Southern Marsh Orchid and listen to that whitethroat. All good, beyond question. My own expeditions would be far the poorer without it. But, as Master Wainwright observed, silence can also be golden out on the hills. I was accompanied by Curmudgeon Man on a walk in Northamptonshire not too long ago, and it wasn’t a pretty sight or sound as he rebuffed his charming companion and her thrush-like repetition of comments and questions. ‘Shut up, why don’t you? ’ he growled. ‘Yak-yak-yak! ’ I could cheerfully have kicked him. At last they drew away and I had the green lane, bramble and evening hush to myself. Rude so-and-so, I thought. Some people, really! Quite honestly, if you’ve got nowt nice to say… Yes, have to watch that.