And there she was, in my camera lens, a breathtaking beauty I had not seen in years. And here she was, all alone on her walk, looking as beautiful as the day I first meet her, barely aged, as if time hadn't touched her.
Perhaps I'd better step back a little, you might have the wrong idea right now.
I hadn't been feeling very well for a few weeks now, a nasty winter virus that left me coughing, sometimes quite violently had more or less left my already dried out throat feeling torn apart. And then there were the sleepless nights.
I literally hadn't seen daylight in days, the cough was so bad it woke me up in the night, coughing up phlegm and sometimes bile, and at worst, pure vomit, that old flame no one wants to reacquaint with. All of that had contributed to my living almost like a quasi vampire, minus the partying, bloodlust and death count, and sleeping tablets hadn't helped much. Take two maximum I was told by the doctor, and no more. Taking one by itself was useless, two did the trick, but once I was awake again, that was it, no going back to the land of nod for me for hours, usually the early evening.
I was feeling tired most of the time, and severally put upon at work. Actually taking sick days was seen as something that had to be investigated, and to avoid that I managed to arrange to use some of my leave instead.
And it occurred to me that I should try to make the most of this time off. If after all I can't sleep in the morning what can I use that time for? I had to consider my neighbours who would still be asleep (hopefully) and I weighed up my options.
Playing video games or movies was tempting, but the noise would likely make them bang on the wall, and even though it's a solid brick wall it doesn't prevent me hearing much of what they get up to with each other, and sometimes some friends.
I didn't have the strength for exercise, or the motivation either.
I needed something else to do.
My main hobbies have taken a backseat in life of late, so I considered which of them might be best to resurrect right now. I was something of a gifted artist in my teens, not a prodigy mind you, but I could draw more or less anything I put my mind to. But I never pursued it as my high school art teachers had a certain way of sucking away any fun and creativity in their classes, everything had to be done by the book, no exceptions, no deviations, everything must be done when they told you to do it.
I still doodle from time to time, it's not as good as it used to be, nowhere near, but I know in my heart of hearts I could get better with time and practise. But even then I had little motivation to draw anything. My house is far from drab but when you've been in the same place for days on end with no change of scenery, well, you need new sources of inspiration.
I thought of one of my newer hobbies.
I looked at the clock.
Five am.
If I grabbed a shower, and my camera gear, got dressed in something warm and sensible and made a little packed lunch and grabbed some breakfast, I could beat all the early morning rush hour traffic and get to one of my favourite beauty spots further up the coast and to the north.
And here I was, it was something of a tourist magnet in the spring and summer, and even in the autumn it was still popular. But then a castle on the coast in England has that effect on many people. A proud solid reminder of our history, our past remembered in a large tribute to the imagination and dedication of previous generations.
They are a source of a great romanticism, and a source of tremendous inspiration to the imagination to many budding artists. And this particular castle was a solidly built reminder. It had been taken in its history, almost all castles have, but it had never been abandoned or left to ruin like so many others have.
But their not for everyone's tastes, obviously. And the woman I was about to meet again for the first time in years had never gave any hint they were to hers.
My camera was resting on its monopod, a great addition to my gear, and a must for anyone who wants to get some added stabilisation to make their pictures look better than you would get with just going hands free. A tripod gives even better results, but does tend to be a bit more cumbersome I find, and today I wanted to be as fast and agile as I could be. Speed was key here, and I often found myself jogging from one spot to the next, getting my shot lined up and seeing if a different angle gave a better picture.
I'll admit, freely, I am far from the best photographer you might ever find, I doubt I could even be called a good photographer, but I am if anything, an enthusiastic photographer.
I have a preference for scenery and landscapes, I've never been into portraits or pictures of people in general, beyond the pics everyone takes on family get togethers, or work dos. Taking pictures of strangers while I'm out and about seems a bit too voyeuristic to me, especially if you don't have their permission.
A friend of mine had almost gotten into a punch up with a man who was taking photos of children playing in a playground. When asked why he was taking the photos, the man pointed out that there were children playing in the park who were from a different estate, he seemed to be under the impression that only the children from his estate should be playing there. My friend asked if any of his kids were playing there, and he replied he had none. The man eventually left after it was pointed out he was taking picture of children without the parents knowledge or consent, and there were rather nasty labels that could be applied to someone doing that.
And right now I was debating whether I should take this woman's photo, and risk being labeled by one of those terms.
There she was, right as I was about to take my shot, yet another person walked into my frame. It happens all the time, it's unavoidable and no one's fault, life after all is for everyone and I'm far from the only person who's going to want to take a walk around a beauty spot at any time of the day. But then I noticed her hair, a dark auburn, which caught the sunlight and seemed to gleam in places with other shades of autumn.
I've always had a soft spot for redheads, especially those with auburn hair. To me it is the colour of autumn, caught in someone's hair, and makes for quite a wonderfully unique statement. I've known a few ladies blessed with this hair colour, and have often wondered why some of them would chose to dye it a dark colour or even try to go blonde. It may work, even work very well, but it always looks blander compared to the wonder nature gave them.
But there was something rather familiar with this hair and it's wonderful warm colours.
I knew her, hadn't seen her in years but used to work with her at the same job I still held now. She had left and gone elsewhere maybe some eight years ago or so, but she had left a fairly massive impression on me, right from the moment I met her.
Her leaving had left a strangely substantial hole in my life. One I had never been able to quite accept, at least at first, but I had eventually realised, it was one shaped just like her.
You're probably thinking I was in love with her, and you'd be right. But it was a certain kind of love.
Unrequited.
Probably the worst type.
And there had been tension between us.
Would she even remember me now?
