Despatches from a foggy county

Much as I'd like to write long poetic screeds about this holiday, the inconvenience of posting from lay-bys and field entrances has dampened my ardour for vivid reportage. And anyway, falling on your arse in what may well have been a cow pat doesn't lend itself to breathless prose. Just lots of muttered cursing.

So if you want words, may I direct you to Beloved Other Half's journal here? She does it so well.

Me, I'll stick to photos.

Day Three

Mud path
Mud path
This pic (actually taken by Beloved Other Half despite everything said above) shows what we were up against when walking yesterday

Airfield keep out sign
Subtle hint
The path runs around the outside of what looked like wild moorland but was actually – allegedly – a functional airfield

Farm buildings in evening light
Rural idyll
Farm buildings in the evening light mark the end of the walk – the car's parked nearby

Moorland ponies
Who are you looking at, mate?
Moorland ponies coped a lot better with the mud than we did – and were quite happy to stand still for photos

Farmyard eggs for sale
Sure as eggs
You'd never get away with leaving an honesty jar back home – we were happy to buy a carton and do the supermarkets out of some cash

My famous impersonation of Alan Rickman as Severus Snape
No foolish waving of wands
My famous impersonation of Alan Rickman as Severus Snape…