Dateline: Thursday 17 January. Dull, artsy clouds punctured with eye searing white sunlight, a fine drizzle or seaspray and everything beginning with A on my IPod, I am utterly alone on the stretch between the fish stall and the seductive pieds a terre of Messrs Slim and McCartney. It is Thursday afternoon, not even a jogger breaks my solitary journey. But I have a bizarre unsegued and therefore shocking combination of Bill Withers, Peter Green, Brenda Lee, Free and Joan Baez for company.

I have a moment of physical uplift near the tea hut when a seagull actually catches a thermal only about 15ft above me to the first strains of FMac's Albatross.

There I am, walking. After years of sitting around. Just a generously, too generously proportioned blonde nanna in a lycra snowboarding two piece barging purposefully along, there and back, wherever that may be. I am at the beginning of Project Walkabout.