Walking here today I suddenly realised that this was effectively where my first step grandad worked. As I headed out to walk here it was with the idea of having an objective, a point to aim for. I had a memory of the story my partner had told me about his grandad working in this place and so ventured out with that sort of historical curiosity. As I mooched around I suddenly noticed my shift in perspective...’this is where step grandad worked’. I had a real feeling for the man that would have trodden lthese paths. This man who I didn’t know, who had a son who I didn’t know, who in turn, had a son who I knew and lived with. I will be the only person alive who knows of this man that walked these paths. What is that feeling? I can’t claim blood relation. I can’t claim marital connection. I went on to marry another man years later. But in some peculiar way I felt a sense of a man I never knew as part of me. He will have no sense of me...obviously. What are all these connections? And rootedness? It’s all so tenuous and fragile. Why do we even seem to have this need? (...other than for the obvious ones that dear old Bowlby helped us to understand). Does a ‘step’ connection end when the relationship ends or someone dies? Does it connect me to this place? What connects us? What is that feeling?

I was so tired. So worn out and couldn’t walk far at all.