Being as my back is starting to give up the ghost, I tend to lurch a lot.
Life isn’t all bunting and frolic.
Not only do I galivant, but when I do it I’m fancy free.
Actually, after FUBARing my right leg, and my left knee acting Ass, I tend to shuffle lately. It is distressing.
Could be worse. You could clump clump along on your walker.
No worries, I’ll send you some tennis balls.
And free for anything fancy?
Isn’t it spelled “gallivant”?
I like to alternate between gallivanting and careening.
It works for me.
I gladly gad. 
I used to mosey, but mostly suanter these days.
Bunting is a lovely word I haven’t heard in a spell.
Nor do I ever recall frolicking with said bunting but it does sound inviting.
I’m partial to perambulation
(ooh, band name - Partial to Perambulation!)
A guy after my own heart.
And may I recommend the Beau Dommage song “Le retour du flâneur” - https://youtu.be/J-At2z7QhJU?si=PV946ZsQgc1EZ4lm ?
I may be being whooshed, but that’s the root of the word in French. 19th century gentlemen in flannel trousers who would wander joyfully about Paris, with no particular purpose nor place to go…
I gambol.
I career.
Statistically, it’s unlikely to end well.
On good days, I flit around.
I had a friend in Portland who also liked to wander the neighborhood. He had also lived in Paris for a year at one point, so we agreed that flaneur was a good title for us and typically greeted each other with “Bon jour!”
I fear my dear late mother might coarsen the tone of all this carry-on. She was partial to the phrase “In and out like a fart in a colander”
I travel, swimmingly.