From the point that Theresa May resigned, through the Tory Party Leadership race, the appointment of Boris Johnson as Prime Minister and finally the general election I have found it increasingly difficult to see any humour in Brexit, even for parody. Certainly there has been no inspiration for anything I could incorporate positively into my retirement life style, no celebration of anything great about Britain, just more and more examples of the slow decline in standards, integrity and honesty and its corrosive effect on the democratic process.

I used to think that walking was something you only did for exercise and/or fun when you could no longer run. So I didn't walk for pleasure until I couldn't run, then it was a useful rehabilitation aid, to get me through an injury; an interim measure until I was able to resume running.

Last night we went to the cinema for the second time in less than two months. In my retirement planning budget I have assumed we will go to see one film a month, an estimate that my daughter thinks is way over the top. Prior to our trip to see Blade Runner 2049 on 12th October the last film we saw in a cinema was, er, (and I had to look this up) I, Daniel Blake, on 30th October 2016. 

"Hang on. The dog won't move." The Webmaster calls for me to wait as I reach the gate and turn down the lane. I look back. The Young Dog is standing transfixed. Staring across the garden. "There's a cat up there somewhere and he won't move if he can see a cat."

"You need to get that dog under control. You haven't trained it properly. It can do anything it likes and it has no idea you are annoyed with it. At least make it know it is misbehaving."

I shout the dog's name and distract it for long enough for the Webmaster to get it moving.

"Come on, hurry up."

"Are you sure I need to go too. I"m not doing the race."

"Yes, you need to come. Get changed."

The Webmaster pretends to be reluctant and makes a lot of whining and whinging noises as he changes into his running kit.

"I haven't got any decent running shoes, only these," he says holding up a pair of dirty, worn out shoes he used for walking during the Summer and before he bought his boots.

"The sky looks interesting. A few very pale pink streaks of cloud, wispy and quite high."

It is dusk as we walk down the lane.

"Yeah, and cold. It's been getting colder all day."

"I'm OK with this thick fleece now but I might get too hot when we've been walking for a while even in this cold."

"Come on, if we don't go soon it will be dark before we get back," the Webmaster urges. It is early afternoon and usually by this time on a Sunday we are returning from our walk not just setting off.

Outside it is warmer than yesterday, but not so bright. It appears to be going dark but it is still only 14:30 so the overcast sky is more likely to be the cause of the gloom.

"I think we need to keep it short otherwise it will be dark before we get back and I haven't brought a torch," I say when we are half way down the lane, "we can go on the Tongue Lane and St. Anne's route. We should have time to go all the way down to the feeder."

"It doesn't seem as foggy as earlier in the week, and it isn't cold."

"So I don't need a sweatshirt and a fleece?"

"Haha, you have to decide. I'm not falling for that one, so you can blame me is you are too hot or too cold," replies the Webmaster, helpfully.

"I'll take my gloves just in case."

It is mid morning. We set off down the lane. The winter sun is shining weakly through the mist.

"I said we'd meet them about 11:30 so we'll need to set off about 10," says the Webmaster. He is referring to a trip he has planned to meet his dad the following day.

"It's cold. I'm cold."

"You'll warm up when we get going. And when it's more sheltered. It's that North East wind the weather forecast mentioned."

"Brrr. Should've brought gloves."

We head down the lane. Weak sunshine and patches of blue sky make it looker warmer than it feels, but in the distance the sky is darker. We wonder whether it will rain.

At the bottom of the lane the dogs turn, confidently, onto the path through the farmyard.

"It's cold. I'm putting on a fleece."

"I'm taking my gloves. And we can take the camera in case there is a colourful sunset. But it isn't such good light as yesterday."

We set off down the lane. The sun is still clearly visible above the horizon but the sky is turning red and the clouds are streaked with pink and orange.

"Let's go up the hill first. If we go all the way round the sun will be down before we get to the top."

"It's a bit grim out there this morning" said the Webmaster as he brought me my first cup of tea of the day. He shivered and climbed back into the bed.

 Outside it is grey and overcast. "Are you suggesting we don't have a long walk?"

"No, but it's trying to drizzle."

We are in no hurry. We lounge around reading on-line newspapers. The Webmaster checks his facebook feed. He shows me a short video of a dog and bird chasing each other around a rock but I've seen it before. Times passes. Eventually we tire of reading articles about Brexit, marmite, Article 50 and the link between the prime minister opening her mouth and the pound sliding on the foreign exchange.

"Come on. I thought we were going an hour ago."

"We've been doing other things. The Student is worried about transferring her money."

"She just has to go for it. Once its done she has the dollars in her account and further falls won't affect their value. If it goes up she's missed out on some savings."

"Where are my shoes?"

What better way to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon than reflecting the state of the nation through sport? Forget football, a restrictive team game with rules, over which we have no say, limiting the independence and personal sovereignty of our players. What we need is something with flexibility, balance and very few rules. Try slack-line walking and limbo dancing. 

"I'm tired," said the Student, "on my time it's 3am."

"A nice, brisk, Winter walk will wake you up. Let's have some breakfast and then we'll go. The Webmaster will make us some porridge."

"Oatmeal. The Americans call it oatmeal."

"Well these are rolled oats. We used to get oatmeal but its quicker to make with the rolled oats and easier to get them gluten free."

"No, they call the porridge oatmeal."

"Change your shoes, we can go in five minutes" says the Webmaster as the Worker comes in through the door.

"I"m very tired."

"We don't have to go for a walk if you don't want to" offers the Webmaster, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Let's go. It might make me feel better."

The Webmaster looks for the torches. We had forgotten them last night, but fortunately we had set out early and had managed an extended evening walk while it was still light enough to be safe on the lane without them.

 It is a cold, grey day with fine drizzle. We set of down the lane with the dogs.

"My hands are numb already," complains the Webmaster after less than 200 metres.

"I've pulled my sleeves down over mine. I should have brought gloves but it didn't feel this cold when I went for a run this morning and I didn't think I'd need them."

"The wind is cold, you might have been more sheltered down there."

"I'm on the way home. I definitely need to go for a walk tonight."

"Before or after we eat?"

"Before, unless you want to set of when it is already dark."

"Mm.. that will make it difficult to cook the meal, but OK."

I've quietly let my proposal to grow bananas slip and hope no one notices. I've even stood in front of a mirror and practised keeping my face straight and deadly serious while denying I ever said it. I've taken my inspiration from leading Brexiters. After all if Nigel Farage can deny suggesting UK could be like Norway with all the TV footage proving the opposite I can deny suggesting I could grow bananas.

"It's a nice day, but the wind is cold," says the Webmaster, fastening his coat. "But not that cold."

The Student is wrapped up in many layers again as we set off for a short morning walk. She seems determined to notice the cold and contrast it with the mild winter climate of California.

There is still ice on the road but it is thawing quickly where it is in the direct sunlight. 

"Walk on this side, it isn't so icy," advises the Webmaster.

I've developed a nesting instinct. You know, the urge to create a comfortable, happy environment to live in. Cleaning, tidying, mending. They say expectant mothers do it just before their babies are due. I can't remember if I did. Possibly the first time.