We have had our Walking Festival, which was more interesting than it perhaps sounds - it featured a variety of characters who find they think better afoot, a view which, after all, has seemed quite reasonable since the days of Aristotle and the Peripatetics, and they all had interesting things to say about it. There are so many reasons people have for walking, after all, beyond getting from a to b, from poetry to politics, and a lot of things came out which were worth thinking about. Walking is a considerable part of my own life: city walks, getting to know a place, country walks, in which the small dramas of the hedgerows are observable by a quiet pedestrian, or walks to think something out. One thing struck me, as the event unfurled, which is that I started to enjoy walking in my mid-teens; I’d spend a Saturday walking to South Ealing, or West Ealing, even Kew: these days, letting a youngster engage on long, solitary city walks seems to be thought of practically child cruelty and also unacceptably dangerous. But there’s nothing quite like long hours on your own to help you know your own mind. I value those memories.