...for trails ... I miss living on both trails in a village in Kent by the River Darent, near fields of golds and purples, the River Camel too where the golds and pinks are very different, ... and yes I even miss the Centre of London, the architecture we enjoyed near The Natural History Museum to name but a few ... the open spaces tucked in a city ... ... the rich history wherever you live ... I will even miss the well trodden path here ... where orchards once reigned ... right through the rich past of Your Dads .. your cousin .... telling us how quick it was to walk from their homes in Welling to Plumstead only last year ... before how we knew it. The handful of photos we were in possession of from this area on the death of your Mum, in a box of memories, to have a more personal view of where it was took. And who was who in these very treasured photos dating right back to those early formal photos of the British stiff upper lip ... The certificates way back before then ... now you or your Mum and Dad not here to reiterate.
These photos not seen the light of gay a while until we were able to see the stuff that mattered again.
However yesterday I was in a low ebb, with both types of ills, I was on the verge of a 111 in the night ... reminds me of the naturally calming area of my past ... my beloved area whence I spent the formative years ... The plunge easier without the baggage!
The time thankful on cue of a change in a rest. The knowledge this will hasten my behaviour change in shifting it to be portable once again of old. Where had your mind been in a better place. We still would be ...
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