We have done the hills already this year, me and Wolfie. That means walking from one end of the Malverns to the other. I am not sure how far it is, but it takes more than three hours, so I reckon it’s 10-12 miles.
We shot up there the other day, and went from British Camp to Chase End in about an hour-and-a-half walk and never spoke to another soul.
Not that we were being unsociable – there was just no one to speak to. It was lovely down through the woods towards Hollybush – and all free as well!
It’s not often I venture into the middle of the city of Worcester but I did a couple of times recently, somewhat early I suppose, about 9.30am, and it was deserted.
It may be the time of year, the time of day, the day of the week, who knows, but Broad Street and the High Street were all but empty.
When I was a lad – in other words, when the world was black and white and the High Street was lower than the river – it seems to me ever morning there was a bustle about the city at that time of day.
Why is it? I have no idea. Or is it my imagination?
Friday night rugby tonight – London Irish at Sixways (although I think there is only about one Irishman playing for them).
I was asked why they were called London Irish by a non-rugby fan the other day and had to explain that there was a London Welsh and London Scottish and people from that country used to play for those clubs – although not so much now, of course.
And I was asked if there is a London French, London Australia, London Argentina, and of course there isn’t but maybe there should be.
There is, I believe, a London South Africa.
I cheered myself up this week with the thought that in eight weeks’ time the cricket season will have started.
I was thinking of going to net practice the other day, but just the thought of it brought a strange aching in my shoulder.
Maybe I’ll take a ball across the hills, bowl it and run after it... or maybe not.
l Dave Bradley is the BBC Hereford & Worcester sports correspondent.