Today is Dump The Pump Day, when you’re meant to ditch the car and use your feet to get from A to B. 

The thing is, I don’t drive, so I didn’t have a pump to dump in the first place. Still, you know me – even if I’m already lacking something, I make sure to lack it even more if the occasion calls for it!

So to mark this day I went for a spot of geocaching. That’s right, you heard me, geocaching: the lazy geek’s version of Bear Grylls. If you haven’t heard of geocaching, it’s where you follow GPS coordinates to a physical cache (often a Tupperware container filled with bits and bobs) that’s been hidden under a rock or inside a tree trunk (or even magnetised to the underneath of a railing in the case of nano caches) by some equally as nerdy but loveable and community spirited dork.

I feel like I’m giving away a huge secret here, as if uncovering a clandestine society only to bring about its untimely dissolution through loose lips and a devil-may-care attitude. However, geocaching is widely known and practised across the world; it’s website-based and even has Facebook and Twitter channels (there’s a high possibility you can even buy T-shirts advertising that you’re the kind of fully grown adult who enjoys rummaging around in nettle patches), so it’s one of the world’s most publicised and popular secrets. Plus I doubt that this quiet little blog is going to cause mass awareness via its seven readers, one of which is me.

Anyway, during my travels I took a snap of the tunnel above, which links my street to its neighbour and stands at the start of a path leading to a particularly exciting cache. It was recently repainted by the Friends of the Field (whoever they may be) and really brightens up the area.

So today I travelled a few miles further than any other day, all on foot. On top of that I got to write my name in a teeny tiny logbook and take away a miniature plastic sheep, leaving one of my grandad’s pre-decimalisation pennies in its place. Take that, pump!


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