So we did. We set off on the Tay Road Bridge, aiming for the other side. It didn’t look far. A kilometre, perhaps?
We walked and talked as Father and Daughter are wont to do. About topics as diverse as engineering and science-fiction and the hills behind the University.
Slowly the other side drew closer, but by then we’d lost all sense of time. We explored the town on the other side, had coffee, admired the old, weathered houses.
And walked back.
Only time kept up with us this time. Perhaps it was the familiarity, or the sense that our legs ached more than a mile’s walk should make them. Onwards we strode, until finally we were back in Dundee.
Tired and exhausted.
As we sat down for our dinner Google came out to play. A little searching and we discovered the folly of our “short walk”. Not a kilometre, but more than two. We’d walked there and back across one of the longest road bridges in Europe without a care and just an aching calf or two.