One of the weirdest, wackiest and most delightful books I read in the past year or so is Yann Martel’s The High Mountains of Portugal. It consists of three deliciously intertwined short stories that, together, form a novel. The story begins with a man who walks backways. Martel describes the man walking backways the length of Lisbon, avoiding walking into horses and donkeys and the general life and bustle of the pre-car city.

A few months ago, my friend Paul, who I walk with occasionally and who loves nothing more reading up on different approaches to physical and mental well-being, said to me, ‘I’ve started walking backwards.’ I immediately thought of the character from the novel. Paul told me that he’d read that walking backways is good for back health and for posture. He told me that he’d recently started doing it, walking backways for five or ten minutes on his daily walks. I thought he was crazy.

But the next time I went for a walk on a reasonably flat road, I thought I’d give it a try. I set a timer on my phone for five minutes and started to walk backways.

At first it was quite difficult. I didn’t trust myself, scared that I was going to trip over something or veer off the path into the ditch. However, after about two minutes, I started to feel comfortable in the walk. I could feel that I was using my muscles differently, across my back, down my legs, into my feet. When the five minutes came to an end, the strangest thing happened. I turned around and had the feeling that a strong force was pushing me from behind, as I walked faster and smoother than I had before I’d commenced the backways walking.

After that, I increased the time, walking backways for ten minutes of my daily walks on those days when I walked on roads (paved or not), rather than winding trails.

But here’s the strange thing. Walking backways not only requires me to use my muscles in a different way; it requires me to engage with the world through my senses in a different way too. With my eyes, I can see where I’ve come from, rather than where I’m going to, including the shape and contours of the path. I can only extrapolate from that what the path is like along my direction of travel. Instead, I rely much more on my sense of touch; in this case, my feet testing the ground with each footfall. Walking backways doesn’t slow me down too much, but with each step, I’m trusting the landing foot to give me the information that I need to not trip or fall over.

It’s a playful way to walk for ten minutes every day. I almost tripped over Lady once when she came up and stood behind me. She came out the worst and we both scared each other. Other than that, I’ve had no accidents or near accidents.

For those ten minutes, the simple act of walking backways alters my perception of the world around me, and engages my mind and body in unusual and, at times, counterintuitive ways.

So, if you see me out and about around Sanlucar walking backways, you might think I’m mad. And you might be right. But I’m enjoying the hell out of those few minutes, as I experience the world anew.