Late on Sunday afternoon, as the black dog settled on my shoulders and I realised that yet again I had not done all the things I had put off during the week to do on Sunday, I knew I had to escape for an hour or so to the Goyt. Mrs BW suggested that we went almost at the same time as I thought it. I guess that’s married life for you. Neither of the teenagers wanted to come so we left them focused on some trivia on the tele and drove the couple of miles to Goyt Lane car park. It was empty, which surprised me but I was not going to complain. The pond was still. No movement not even a ripple.
We walked a little way along the railway track. Mrs BW had expressed a desire to sit on the bench that over looks Wildmoorstone. It is one of the best benches in the Peak District.
I have have posted the view many times before, but it never gets dull or fails to clear away all the accumulated rubbish that builds up in my head. Sadly the feeling of peace and calm that comes over me is lost as I drive away. It is a magic place but its magic does not travel.
So we just sat and listened to the Grouse grumbling in the long dying grass.
Walking back to the car we watched the light fade and felt a slight autumnal chill. I love the way that the seasons drift in. Already despite the “Indian Summer” the light has changed and some of the trees are begining to drop their leaves. I can smell the wood smoke from the first fires of autumn.