Mud and chat

Today was the date for December's outing with the women's walking group loosely organised by a close friend. I've missed most of these monthly outings in the last few months, partly because of the need to recover after my bowel op in July, and partly just through being busy.
So today it was good to catch up.
We'd opted for a walk close to the city's edges, mostly through woodland. Squishy squelchy woodland - carefully negotiated by those of us who are very keen not to fall over, these days. And we finished up at the Rising Sun in Fulwood, for a pub lunch: a pre-Christmas treat.
We talked about a lot of things: family, health, the Covid Inquiry, which TV series or films have been good to watch recently.
There was no conversation about Gaza, however. I think that perhaps we are all just stunned by the horror of that war. I don't think there would be any disagreement between us about the horror, or about the longing for a ceasefire.  I think that perhaps we just didn't have  any more words for our feelings about it all today.