Purple Curled Toes
While our recently turned 13 son, was fighting orcs and climbing great snow topped mountains (epic Stranger Things style Dungeons & Dragons session) my wife and I went up to the Hope Valley to move around a lot more. The drive there, avoiding anything approaching a fast road like the A38 or the M1, was covered in a thick mist. I’d brought only a jumper with me in the unBritish expectation of consistent weather. It reminded me of waking on the first day of the new Millennium to find the cottage we were in so surrounded by fog that it did feel the end of the world was here. But suddenly it cleared and the road opened up to a great view of the heathers and clear blue skies hugging us happily. Walking we took the easy option and stuck to skirting the Derwent Reservoir, so not exactly much of a gradient. However it was a bit longer than we had expected. We met a man walking his own blue Weinerama and asked him how far, “Well I’ve come from that way and done 7.