Tears in the hills and dales.

I’ve been silent, as there has been very little to take pictures of. This next week, however, sees me go to the lake district, camera very much in hand and I have my plans and calculators for sunrises, sunsets and much walking in the moonlight to and from these shots.

I was introduced to the disrtict and, indeed, to walking for recreation and fitness, by someone who was once my partner. We broke up more than a decade past, but recently we got back in touch, became amicable, and it was they who introduced me to walking; the lake district in particular, when they invited me to accompany them on their holiday a while ago and I spent a few days walking the hills with them.

They were to be there the week before us, welcoming us there as we bid them goodbye … but it wasn’t to happen. Tomorrow, early, I leave for the caravan park. Tonight, just a few hours ago, I learn they are in hospital with the big C. I knew they had been seriously ill, and were going to miss their holiday, but I wasn’t expecting this. Smoking is, again, likely to be the blame.

It is believed to be terminal, with not long left on the clock. While I am walking the hills and dales this next week, they will be very much at the front of my mind; and I expect very much that the eyepiece of my camera will be a little blurred with the tears.

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