Every visit is like the re-reading of a book. Another detail. Another meaning. Another sense. This flows in to that which makes that over there catch the eye which makes you see those differently and realise why that’s over there. Jigsaw. An unlocking. An opening. I walk in the wet and the wind, with the OS sheet, and with the book about Ethel Haythornthwaite who founded the charity that i now have the privilege of running. Looking across a Valley showered and loud with the chorus of corvids and sheep and cows and the sodden westerly wind. Sheffield sits in its bowl down there. Grey beyond these greens. Ethel wrote: ‘My childhood impressions of the city were a gloomy, noisy, shapeless phenomenon. But outside the city – there one began to live. The escape into clean air, the gradual return to nature – with this came satisfaction, peace, freedom, solitude, excitement. One grew to become conscious of its profounder value, something beyond health and high spirits – something to worship’. // I get it. I really do.