The dog walker from Burgh-By-Sands ...

Soon after we'd been dropped off by taxi at Boustead Hill, we met a walker in a wax jacket with two eager lolloping dogs - 

They're Collie Staffie crosses he said - 

I kept in check my long held dread of dogs, nurtured ever since I was a paper boy - these questing bright eyed creatures surged towards us, delving into Julia's backpack with their glistening muzzles - she brushed them away with a casual, fearless, gesture - 

Observations about breeds of dogs were exchanged - I kept silent, having no knowledge of dogs, but a more general conversation then ensued - 

I wouldn't live anywhere else our new acquaintance said - but the weather's the thing - it's very wet, all the year round - 

He pointed out towards the Firth - during the war, pilots were trained there, flying Hudsons - they called it Hudson Bay - 

I mentioned the marshes - they're dangerous he said - the tide comes in, in a circle, and very fast - 

He looked out, over the narrow winding creeks between the reeds - it's eerie at night here, when its raining and wild, and there are red lights over there - 

I imagined him, on winter afternoons, hurrying back to the car with his dogs, the darkness coming down upon this beautiful and desolate place - 

11.00

July 15 2014 

Boustead Hill
Cumbria