Last Thursday, on Wansfell’s rocky and boggy ridge. A couple of hours hiding from peanut sized hail, dancing o’er and around brimful bogs and getting the cobwebs blown out of my rattling skull. A finish in the middle of Ambleside too, just as the bakery were clearing out the last pastries.

And, a strange feeling, after years of illness and injury, of somehow meeting myself coming back; a blog^ post there — if I can get the idea out of my head, through my pen and onto paper. Thoughts around that oldidea of leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories.

To snaffle from Paul Giblin*; I’m not sure I’m back, whatever that means. But I am here.

^my actual blog, neglected during aforementioned illness and injury