The rucksack slouches in the hall. “Head up. Chest open. Feet evenly planted.” I encourage.

“I don’t have feet, in case you hadn’t noticed. What I do have is a nasty stain round the base. Last year’s mud. You never did sponge me down. You never did the training either. Or lost that half stone.”

“True. But I’m still going to walk. And you are coming with me. Like before. And you boots,

you’re coming too. ”

“But you bought the Merrels and the Salomans. They’re smarter and lighter and more waterproof. ”

“But I trust you. Dug you out from behind the wellies, hoovered out the spiders. You’re dubbined and polished. Ready.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Yes, we are all ready as we’ll ever be.”

(Shamelessly filched from Anthony Wilson and his peerless ‘book’).


2 thoughts on “Waiting

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