Walks and memories

We were up at 6 a.m., as Richard had an early train to London for some Folklore Society meetings. This suited me - it's a busy week, and this gave me a chance to get on with a few things.

It wasn't all chores though. I met Val for a mid-morning walk in Ecclesall Woods, where there's still plenty of colour in the trees. We were lucky to meet in the morning, as heavy rain set in after lunch.  At the cafe on the edge of the woods, we met up with an old friend whom neither of us has seen in over 25 years - a real pleasure.  It turns out that we have some shared photography interests and networks, which means we'll probably manage to stay back in touch now.   The cleverly-constructed owl was spotted in the cafe.

Once back in the house, I dug out a crate of old papers that I've been meaning to go through for months. Some of it was easy to glance at and consign to the recycling pile. Other things, not so much: letters from the (gulp) 1970s and 1980s for instance. What to do with these echoes of a very different life, all handwritten, and often full of 20-something angst? In the end I settled on keeping some samples as reminders, but letting go of a lot more.  This is not the only box in the queue for a long-overdue cull... there are several more lurking in the garage. Perhaps as the evenings get darker, and the weather greyer, I'll get through them finally.

Later I listened to the latest BBC radio 4 Ukrainecast episode, focusing mostly on the destruction of Mariupol and some accounts from witnesses and survivors. The one bright strand in this devastating picture was the story of an Azovstal defender who had survived both the fighting and captivity, and who had eventually returned to Ukraine via a prisoner exchange. Only at the end of the interview with his wife did the full extent of his continuing physical and emotional trauma really emerge. I know there's a BBC Panorama documentary on this evening about Mariupol, and I have it earmarked to watch.