Last night I fell awkwardly and twisted my knee beneath me so, because today I am confined to home, Mrs MW took our usual walk without me. I can get around - I spent some time while she was out digging up the dying daffodils in the pots at the front of the house - but I desperately miss the exercise, the fresh air and the spiritual uplift of an hour or so surrounded by nature.
The experience was upsetting, the more so since, at one point, I thought I might be able to accompany her if I had a walking stick, so we looked for one we brought with us which, if I recall rightly, belonged to Mrs MW's father. We could find it nowhere, nor could we find a walking stick made....
....by one of the Kamba carvers who had their stalls in the central reservation of Kilindini Road - picture shows my brother when he was last in Mombasa in 1964. The stick was made some years before that to a design I suggested, which featured an elephant on the top. I later saw that the carver had adopted the design and was offering a selection for sale.
It made the morning even more upsetting because we cannot think how we lost the sticks though, after all the moves we've made in the last few years, that we've inadvertently left some things behind isn't really surprising.
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