Walking, Not in Memphis but in Wolverhampton...

Dear Juliet

I hope you're okay?

Anyway, walking to a hospital to get one's cancer drugs through a hideously deprived suburb of Birmingham, which itself has had a bin strike for the last fifteen months might not seem like a fun thing to do.

However, something of spring was shining through. Walking not in Memphis but in Wolverhampton, I took my usual route to New Cross Hospital from the railway station past the Birmingham Main Line Canal. The ducks were out and about, there was no sign of one ninety-pound nutcase I'd bumped into a couple of months ago and I'm coming to the end of that course of pills.

It did feel a bit different trudging along last August, hoping nothing had metastasized, not looking forward to the long winter; but I had a great day today because (in a very understated way) it felt like you were along for the ride. I felt sharp of eye, fairly fleet of foot, looking out for anything I could photograph and show you, and doing that's just the bee's knees for me.

I quite like being the Wichita Lineman, but I like it even more knowing you're out there, singing in the wires...

And I am still on the line...

Take care.

Love,

James


















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