Having oodles of annual leave carried over from last year for various reasons, I’ve been having time out back in Rural Derbyshire to use it up. Earlier this week there were signs of spring peeking through the gaps and the almost blank emptiness of winter on a rural backdrop. The sky was blue and clear, the hills and oddly bleached shade of green hazily surrounded by that funny winter sunlight. There were my favourite walks and then, so suddenly, it all changed. The temperature crashed down, the sky became heavy and grey and the cold crept in everywhere. But it’s still beautiful, peaceful. These hills are mine, etched firmly on to the inside of my eyelids, their impression there when I close my eyes and still there when I wake. There’s something soothing in their permanence and I feel that I can breathe again.