I've just completed a short, but sad walking related task at home; I've been unpacking my rucksack - I won't be using it for quite a while.
My anorak, hi-vis tabard and overtrousers have been hung up on the rail upstairs, the spare pair of socks thrown into the laundry basket, my first aid kit plus the knee and ankle strapping have gone to the kitchen cupboard, my headtorch is now on the shelf at the top of the stairs leading down into the cellar...and the emergency stash of flapjacks and chocolate that I always carry with me will soon be eaten. My compass, whistle and ice grippers can stay where they are.
It's been a ritual that I felt I had to perform; an acknowledge that I won't be able to go walking in the Peak District for a long time, and that the world will never be the same again. It's also given me an opportunity to reminisce about better times and take comfort in the fact that I'm well prepared for this emergency...however long it lasts.