Early-ish to bed…because a little fatigued by the business of the day (and the beer and the wine and the curry…and the weirdness that is Fargo)…so of course, awake by 3.30am…very bored by 4.30…so I head out for a walk. By the canal, over a football field (because I haven’t stepped on one for years) with a proliferation of swifts overhead at their breakfast, then over the river and up through the wood which are never silent even when you stand still in a clearing. Up through the trees and out onto the Glen where there are some seriously noisy curlews flapping about…and then up the final pull, stepping around the dead (little) mole (they’re tiny). Just missing the sunrise. Having got quite a sweat on through the pull up, the bitter wind from the west was quite a relief (at first). Not quite a thousand feet up and the handy little post with its 360 information tells me I can see as far as the Derbyshire hills (26 miles) to the south; to Ferrybridge and Drax looking like ancient citadels waiting for war (35 miles) to the east, and Haworth (12 or so miles) off to the SW.

You look at places close by and wonder why that thing isn’t next to that other thing like the map in your head says it should be…

Then head back down through bracken as high as your shoulder, foxgloves madly abundant…and lambs blearily indignant. At least the paper shop is open.

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