I was aghast. "But their roots are anchored at least
inches, perhaps feet into the cliff; I, however, am balanced on top of it. In
THIS wind. Anyway, there’s too much
windshake.’
As though
to emphasise this, the neck flap of my anorak gave me a stinging slap in the
ear, then followed with a volley, as I struggled savagely to clip it in.
‘Nonsense,’
she says and thrusts the camera at me.
I point and
shoot. A desperate move this as I have
to temporarily release my white-knuckle grip on my trekking poles, (all right
walking sticks).
‘My turn,’
she says and we swap places. I’m safe in
the niche now. As the wind howls with
extraordinary force, she wobbles. I
reach to steady her. She steps back...
Oh
bugger! She’s....regained her footing as
lightly as a prima ballerina.
‘Ah-ha,’
she says. ‘Your face made the perfect
picture.’
© Gill Dunstan
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