Bob was a skiing friend.
He hailed from Yorkshire, England.
As such he was, over the past few years, someone that I would see annually for one week, no more than that.
Shortly after that particular ski week ended this year at the end of January, I decided to step away from that group for reasons of my own.
Amongst other things my decision meant I was unlikely to see and chat with Bob again for quite some time, maybe never.
It would appear that never has arrived.
Up to Wednesday evening I was in the fortunate position of not directly knowing anyone who had died from COVID-19.
Bob changed that.
He was a straight talking, good hearted, Yorkshire man. To know him was to like him. It was nigh on impossible to do otherwise.
Bob came to skiing late in life. He was far from a natural on the slopes. He encountered many challenges, the stories of his adventures were many. Yet he kept coming back, often against the wishes of his family.
There was no stopping him.
Until now.
On this years trip Bob bought a round of drinks for everyone as a result of an unexpected windfall that had come his way.
Seems he won’t now get a chance to spend it.
If they do skiing in the after life, Bob will be there.
To Bob.
Blind light 
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