I find that the three truly great times for thinking thoughts are when I am standing in the shower, sitting on the john, or walking. And the greatest of these, by far, is walking.

Freed from the pressure of haste, the tyranny of film, and now the restraint of clothes, I found myself looking more closely at what went on around me.

Mostly, two miles an hour is good going.

Every walk of life falls under the Testicular Imperative: Either you have the world by them, or it has you.

It is always there, of course, when you come back from the green world. You have been living by sunrise and sunset, by wind and rain, surrounded by the ebb and flow of lives that respond only to such simple, rhythmic elements. But now the tone and tempo of the days switch. Instead of harmony, jangle.

Details of the many walks I made along the crest have blurred, now, into a pleasing tapestry of grass and space and sunlight.

I do what I do instinctively, and that’s me. If you like me, that’s fine; if you don’t like me then don’t watch me.