Cold and wet up there in the mist I catch myself pretending I’m Ernest.H.S, what’s the words…”I’ve seen life in all its spenders, I’ve seen the text which nature renders….”. The trip up to the Peaks with my mates revived my wailing senses and passion for adventure. A trip which was quickly planned whilst sat spending an eighth month working in a desolate office in the top of a tower block in Vauxhall. Reaching out to my old childhood friends Mark, Chris and Shaun, it was deemed best route was to take the tents up north on the wettest weekend of the year. Not quite wine, women and song, more like walking, wading and (not) sleeping. All in all a damn fine trip with the lads whom celebrated with a few tinies of Raven Hill.
Looking forward to the next one already!