Mrs BW had just finished a short story that she had been working on for a while, so by way of celebration we popped into the Goyt for a gentle Sunday stroll. The weather was lovely, almost spring like and Goyt Lane car park was fairly busy. Even so there were not many people about. The Goyt seems to absorb them, so that it never feels really crowded. We set off along the old disused railway track and chatted about this and that, but mostly about the fledglings to be honest. (They had declined the offer to come with us. The Weasel was absorbed in doing something to her hair whilst the Munch was immersed in his latest PSP game. Walking is boring as far as they are concerned, and walking with your parents, in public, so that you might be seen by someone you know, is apparently only one down from catching them (your parents)”at it”, what ever “it” may be.) So if we could not have them with us, we talked about them, about the little irritating things that they do, and some of their more unappealing habits. We built up quite a list and I think we both felt better for it. And all around us the Goyt slumbered, silent and golden brown in its autumnal colours, the perfect backdrop for a Sunday morning stroll.