I hate it.
It's mostly because of being forced to go for walks when a child. Let me describe them. There's two possibilities:
The "short" walk:
Parents announce we're going for a short walk. Couple of hours maximum. Nothing is allowed in the way, whether you're busy, feeling ill, not wanting to go... because it's good for us.
We set with Dad having decided where we are going and shown Mum on the map. She assures us that it should be no more than a couple of hours.
After three hours, we ask. Dad says we were going so well he thought we'd go a longer route. So where. "You see the hill in the distance? We're aiming for the one beyond this. We're about halfway on a circular route." Murdering him and pinching the keys so we can get home is apparently not an option.
Because Dad didn't bring the map, we get lost. Dad disappears at some point to look at the lesser-spotted whatsit. Mum panics and we end up walking round to eventually find him sitting peacefully with binoculars up to his eyes and uninclined to move.
We arrive back at about 9pm, having not had anything to eat (or drink) except blackberries since lunch. I have a migraine coming due to hunger/thirst.
Dbro insists he has to go first for the shower and Mum backs him up. However he also insists he needs to eat first, so no one gets to bed much before midnight and there's school the next day.
The long walk:
We are disturbed early because the Parents have decided it's a beautiful day and we're going to spend it climbing a mountain.
We are chivvied into making pack lunch (soggy ham sandwiches, frozen squash that won't have defrosted properly until we're back, a piece of home made fruit cake each, a packed of biscuits/maybe bought cakes as a treat, over-ripe fruit, salad and the inevitable milton cloth. All these are placed in plastic bags. This goes into a very heavy and awkward to carry cold box which everyone except dbro will be expected to carry)
We drive out there to find lots of people have parked in the best spaces. So we end up driving further out to find a place to park.
The walk itself consists of Mum telling us how lucky we are to have such caring and knowledgeable parents who take us for wonderful nature walks and are thoughtful enough to pack an amazingly healthy pack lunch unlike those unkind parents who take their children to cafes etc
Dad is disappearing in the distance. Either off in front (with the map - once we got so lost from each other both Mum and Dad would have called the police on each other being lost if we hadn't been so far from any civilization.) or sitting down to watch the birds on the windiest spot he can find. We're meant to be quiet so not to disturb the red-winged skinny leg goose that he's heard can occasionally be seen around there.
Lunch. Sandwiches are now totally squashed because they were put at the bottom. The fruit cake is now a pile of crumbs and raisins for similar reasons. The squash has not defrosted enough to give anyone anything other than a drizzle, fruit is now a pile of squashed gunk and Mum insists that dbro must be hungry so he has 5/6 of the bought cakes/90% of the biscuits. Everything smells of Milton.
One of my superpowers is being able to dispose of an entire packed lunch sitting next to my family without them realising. Unfortunately that also means I will be getting a migraine before we get back.
Someone during the meal (probably dsis) will discover they've sat on sheep/rabbit poo and make a fuss. Doesn't help any hunger feelings.
Dad decides on a "short cut" which isn't. But it does take us through a farm yard or a field of cows. Dad is brilliant with animals. They love him. So the farm dogs rush up all aggressive and he says "good dog" and they rolls over and beg him to run their tummy. They then takes out the frustration that they failed to defend the farm against him on the rest of us who are trailing about 5 minutes behind.
Cows are a different matter. They love him. he climbs over the stile out of the field and they crowd round it moo-ing after him like lovers. This makes it pretty impossible to get to the stile for the rest of us.
Dsis will try to sneak through and end up sitting on a thistle/nettle and telling us it's all our fault. Mum is panicking we're totally lost. Which we are. But actually no more than we were before because Dad's map reading has us about 5 miles from where he thinks we are.
Adding to that Dad decides a bit of fun is to hide and jump out at us. That's fine until we don't go the way he expects and we really are totally separated. Luckily the random dog walker recognises the description so we know to go back. he's given up on jumping out now and is lying on his back, chewing straw, with his binoculars trained on a dot in the tree which probably still isn't anything interesting. He doesn't want to move until he's sure.
The short cut inevitably has a patch of mud. The sort of lose-your-wellies up-to-your-knees sort of mud. This will be true in the middle of winter and in the middle of a drought. Someone (probably dsis) will manage to sit down in the middle of it. That does provide the entertainment for the day. I get told off for laughing.
We will arrive back, in the dark, to where Dad thinks the car is to find it isn't. Thus follows a discussion about whether it is stolen (unlikely, my parents didn't ever have a car that would have been worth that and they always always always put the crook lock on, even on a 25 year old car that the crook lock is probably worth more than the car)
After we've all wandered in different directions and eventually the car has been found, Dad announces we can't possibly get in the car so dirty so we spend the next fifteen minutes brushing each other down in the vain hope we might be cleaner and just getting out hands filthy.
Dad eventually allows us in the car with threats that we're going to have to clean the car tomorrow.
Repeat of home time for short walk with the added clean out the cold box, which probably will end up being me and dsis while dbro has the shower. First. As always.
Love my parents very much but that is why I don't do walks.