A bird with a call that i don’t recognise flies circles above me. I drain my cup. Orientate. Pack up. When i stop in pea souper clag i leave a walking pole extended pointing in the direction i need to leave in. Torch is useless. It lights up the water molecules and has me walking in thick cotton wool glasses. Off. Nothing and nobody. A train in the distance. A campervan door slams shut at Stanage. Down past the scooped boulder towards the road. Five people get out of a car. A light goes on that is brighter than the sun. The five go through the gate. The five go ankle deep in gloop. The five get back in the car. What would Enid Blyton think. Two centigrade and ten metres vis. Plan early plan twice. Plans change. I move on ….

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