It was a bit warm today even in the Peak District. I had a meeting in Ripley first thing, so after an early morning walk around the fields with Lilly, I set off. It was hot in the car. No air conditioning in my elderly Toyota, and though the engine seems sound still, some of the frivolous things like the brakes, gearbox and what ever controls the flow of hot and cold air are showing signs of wear and tear. As I turned off the Ashbourne Road and headed for Cromford (via Gellia) I joined a queue of vehicles, moving fairly slowly (between 30 and 40mph). What was slowing us down I mused? A caravan, a tractor? An elderly person, a learner driver? No none of these. As I progressed slowly up the queue I was somewhat surprised to see a Derbyshire Dales gritter equipped with snow plough on the front and flashing lights, ambling along the highway. Why? Practise? Whimsy? Probably sheer bloody mindedness, unless of course it is the ghostly gritter that disappeared in the February snowstorms and is now doomed to wander the A and B roads of the Peak District, pointlessly holding up the traffic and irritating people.