March 8th – By the time I got to Brownhills, it was late and dark. I didn’t mind though – the rain had stopped and I wasn’t far from a hot shower, fish and chips and a big mug of tea.
The keen wind was drying things out an on the lonely but familiar Black Path, I reflected on what a hard week it had been , and how glad I was that it was over.
Some weeks you’re glad just to survive to see the end of them.
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