I’m very much in favour of open, green spaces. Maybe for not as much as the golf courses take up, but that is another rant.

It’s nice to travel some of our roads — especially on foot — with the hanging trees on Middle Road and nicely kept hedges of oleanders, hibiscus and other flora bordering the sidewalks. I get that Zen feeling and a wave of relaxation. So when I got on the scale at the doctor's office for my annual, I had to listen to him give me the lecture on putting on a few pounds. I asked, “OK, what should I do?” He responds: “Drink less beer at the pub and exercise more.”

I’m a senior male, and multitasking is not my strong point, so I decided to — excuse the pun — take it one step at a time. I decided to go for early-morning walks before the sun came out so that no one could see me in shorts in public. I stopped wearing my Bermuda shorts when in public ever since a kid approached me, looked at my legs and said, “Wow! Those are cool Spider-Man tattoos!” He was referring to how motley and veiny they appeared.

So I set my alarm for 5am, looking forward to my early-morning fresh air, being greeted by the song of the birds, some me time, and no nagging wife — even if it is but for a short time and, of course, the beautiful sunrise.

The next day, the alarm goes off again — at least I think it was the alarm. The wife and the alarm seem to make the same annoying sound. I gingerly walk down the stairs, because the bones and joints don’t seem to work as well as they used to, and out the door I go. I stop for a second, take in a deep breath and listen to the silence. “How magical,” I said to myself, and off I go.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before I hit my first sidewalk obstacle; as I rounded the bend, a hanging branch from my neighbour's property smacked me in the forehead. Luckily, I was wearing my lucky Heineken cap, so it left a scratch, but it could have been worse.

OK, watch for low-hanging branches!

As my eyes adjusted to the darker side of the day, I looked down the sidewalk. I could see the outline of something blocking my path; it wasn’t moving, so I decided to take a closer look. A few steps later, I realised it was weeds growing in the middle of the path, some a foot high! They were growing out of the wall, out of the drains, out of cracks on the sidewalks. It looked like a scene out of Day of the Triffids.

My trail was impassable. Isn’t W&E supposed to be maintaining sidewalks? What happened to our nicely kept road and lanes? Why now do I have to carry a weed whacker to go for a walk? All I wanted to do was to go for a healthy morning stroll, not battle an assault course.

I stood there for a second, then said, “To hell with this” and turned around to go home. Just then, I tripped up on a dandelion that had found a way to grow in a crack in the sidewalk. No lucky cap was going to save me from this fall. As I lay there, a funny feeling came over me. Yes, I remember this pain; it’s a pain I haven’t felt in years. It was the same pain I used to get on my knees and legs when I came off my Mobylette while pack-racing back in the day (those were good times).

I gathered myself, got up and walked home, licking my wounds. I think I'll give the stop-drinking-beer thing a go for a while.