Street walker

It is interesting how sound is magnified by silence.

I live close to a main road and am used to the almost non-stop hum and rumble of traffic. Until it gets stopped. Or drastically curtailed. Now I am astounded as to how one car, not even a truck, can sound louder and more irritating than a blustering dowager demanding tea and scones on a rainy day.

The same goes for voices and footsteps.

I wake up early, as early as 4 am some days. Today was one of them.

Being on lockdown and restricted to a small space I find I have this urgent need to get out onto my stoep at odd moments through the day, and the evening. So, I grabbed the keys and opened the door, although it was still pitch dark. It was wonderfully quiet. I could hear the Robin begin to mutter, the crickets were in full cry, a guinea fowl clucked. There was mist and the lightest of rains gently coating the ground.

Then I heard a strange sound. One that did not belong. Slap, slap, slap. A figure dressed in black outlined in the streetlamp. Hurried footsteps. I recognised the shape. He often power walks around the park my house looks out onto. Ten minutes later, round two. I wanted to call out “I see you”, but  I didn’t. Maybe tomorrow I will.

Why is it that some people consider their need for exercise to be that much more important than anyone else’s? Why should he get to do his power walk when the rest of us find another way to keep fit?

I don’t know the answer. That’s the way it is. Some feel entitled. Others don’t. Some fret. Others chill. He might get away with it, scurrying around the streets at the witching hour, then again, he might not. I’d still like to see his reaction if I call out, and I might just do it for a laugh!

Stay safe all. Don’t let the idiots get to you!