The years have not been kind to either of us.

Twenty six years have passed by since I first stood on this very spot,  fresher faced and less tainted by the rigors of life's many roller coaster like twists and turns,  back then.  Before the failing eyesight as the distance needed to view my motorcycle magazines now outstretches the lengths of my arms,  before the thirty something battle of the bulge where nowadays I merely have to look at a cream cake to put on two pounds!   Long before the days of needing an afternoon nap after any form of exertion.

Where once stood a beautifully ornate bridge,  there now lurks devestation and decay as mother nature reclaims the land that was rightfully hers,  no longer cared for by dutiful gardeners,  a cluttered pathway of intrusive bramble which leaves this secret haven devoid of visitors other than dewy eyed romantics such as we. 

Rusted metal,  rotting away and encased by creeping vines,  provides the backdrop to my happy memories now,  as my eyes roll across the tranqil spot and my head is filled with rose tinted reminiscence from the days of my youth.  The happy hours later spent here,  the courtship days when silence was golden as Pat and I held hands and pondered our future together.

Little did she realise that a murderer get's only six years, but she's still doing time with me after all these years!!

The irony of the scene makes me smile.  Together, we have grown old disgracefully,  my retreat and me!    My little Gingey baby still looks so beautiful, those eyes still burning bright, her infectious smile still warming my heart.  There is rustic charm in this treasured location.

And me?     Let's not go there!