Not that i was in a troubled state of mind when I was ascending the steps to the top of the slope on the way home from one of those marathon afternoon walks. I was just glad to b able to do it at my golden oldie age. I do not know how many steps there are, when your joints creak and you are reminded of extremities that had been forgotten over the years, you are just glad that you can still do it. Mr. Swiss was ahead, as usual and I saw him armed with his mobile telephone pointing at everything, except me.
“You could take a photo of me showing how fit I am for a golden oldie.”
“Ok, then smile and look at me.”
This was easier said than one because I did not feel like smiling and if I had to stand still, there was a possibility that I would definitely lose my balance and perhaps arrive at the bottom of the steps with a few broken limbs and bruises. I gripped the wooden support and smiled for the camera hoping that it would all be done with in a few minutes.
I had been one of those “let’s walk along the river” afternoons where I was taking photos and Mr. Swiss was walking on heedless of me.
Now that would be a good shot, a field of leaves which had left the trees, but there was a problem. I really did not want a photo collection including a figure of Mr. Swiss on all of them. He was always walking ahead and so I had to wait until he had turned a corner and was out of sight. In the meanwhile I was overtaken by a cyclist and two runners, which prolonged the wait. Eventually I continued.
I think the only trouble on this estate of river landscapes was myself that noticed the golden sun had decided to sink a little further in the West and we should make our way home. Even the ducks ad swans had disappeared.
We climbed up the many steps for the homeward run/walk (my first photo). I then cast a glance in the distance and what did I see? If the air is clear you cannot escape them. They remain where they are, a Swiss photographer’s delight, yes, the Bernese Alps towards the South.
And now it was really the path towards home. It was then I heard a noise, a loud noise, something was approaching over the path. It then appeared. Yes, is was Mr. Flury, the village factotum doing his rounds to ensure that the cows and sheep were safe and that the grass stalks were all in their rightful place and there were no lonesome hikers that had lost themselves stopping to take photos on the way. Mr. Flury is a very important person in our village. He is ever present when taking a walk and everyone knows him.
I cast a look at our destination, perched on top of the hilly banks of the river. It would not be far now. I could already visualise my nice comfortable armchair, my slippers and my home dress waiting for my tired and weary body to relax. Mr. Swiss was naturally already home as I approached our front door. Yes, the troubled estate of my body, feet and other weary parts would soon be laid to rest. No, not quite. I would have to upload my numerous photographic trophies from my walk onto the computer.