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Ilkley, United Kingdom

Returning in some way to our collective roots, Diane and I both started the day with the best intentions of working on individual writing projects. We sat side by side, laptop to laptop and worked hard at procrastination until we thought we deserved a break to clear the cobwebs.

The clouds were gathering outside which imbued the moors with a menacing melancholy that was just too atmospheric to resist. So we didn’t. Diane’s place backs onto Ilkely Moor so it was only a matter of minutes before we were surrounded by heather and bracken. We could almost hear Cathy’s whisper on the wind, calling to Heathcliff.

Up the top, it was all a little bit more League of Gentlemen though. A small building stands housing a long since disused mineral water well and what can only be described as a ‘local shop for local people’ – there was certainly nothing for me there! In fact, in all my visits to Ilkley over the years, I’ve never once seen the shop open or any sign of life other than the odd window display of ‘precious things’ that I dare not covet lest I disappear forever.

Before Edward and Tubbs could appear, we wound our way back towards the village via a slippery and winding path that led us to a lovely little lake, or perhaps it was a pretty prominent pond – such was its size, we didn’t know how to properly categorise it.

We kept on to the village, passing an ex-squirrel on the road that left me a little traumatised – it was just so pink inside! We gathered some groceries and headed back to the flat (this time Diane gallantly obscured my view of the squished squirrel) for an early night ahead of Diane’s return to work tomorrow.

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