Miles better after my restorative stroll along canal

AND now for the big one. The Towpath Kid hasn’t set forth for six months.

I’ve walked the length of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal almost as far as Chorley, but that was many moons ago, before the big operation.

The physio says I must push myself, so here goes, for the first time on the towpath, from Bradley to Skipton, two and a bit miles.

My, how the weather has changed! The mercury is down 10 points to 4C, and a chilly wind is at my back. From the swing bridge into town, the towpath is surfaced with composite stuff, so the going is good.

Not many other walkers or cyclists about today, though I swap suggestions with a couple over the identity of a flock of geese on the far side. Canada? Probably.

There are mallard, and pair of ducks with black heads and white plumage. Merganser, according to the book, but no herons today.

Most of the trees have lost their leaves, or are busy shedding them, bright yellow, dark brown and ochre.

I amuse myself with the names of the boats: The Lark Ascending, Aisling Gheal (who she?), Lady Mab, Tug No 1, Pelistry (a bay in the Scillies, evidently).

Some whimsical humour here. Grandpa has a skeleton sitting above the deck. One barge carries a painted message: “If you want to keep your memories, you first have to live them.” Discuss, on one side of the paper only.

A light, cold rain begins to fall, pricking the placid surface of the canal like a watery pin cushion.

It morphs into “the rain that wets you”, and when I reach the High Street, market traders are covering up their wares.

Made it! Another milestone.