“I believe everything out of the common. The only thing to distrust is the normal.” ―
I’ve been waiting for this. The 39 step moment.
I have a very, very poor step counting app on my phone. I’ve always thought that the whole business of having to do a certain number of steps each day was pretty bogus, but I admit there’s a certain pleasure in seeing the numbers rising, or there would be if you could believe in them.
My own very, very poor step counting app seems to pluck numbers out of the ether that have little relation to anything, certainly not to any distance I’ve actually walked.
Worse still, the inamorata has the same app on her phone, and there have been days when we’ve walked exactly the same routes and she’s clocked up a couple of thousand steps while I’ve clocked up a couple of hundred.
Since I think the whole thing is bogus I can’t get very upset about it and I wouldn’t say that on the day that my app told me I’d walked 39 steps I actually had but it is just about possible. I’d scarcely left the house that day since it’s been so bloody cold out there. And accurate or not there was pleasure to be had in seeing that magical number of 39 appear on my screen.
Just as there was in this sight in Harwich, a set of steps with the number 39 painted on the nearby wall.
The world is full of small pleasures. Am I right, sir?
Quite right, old chap.
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