sometime last week:
Sitting among the prone stones, gaze drifting away to the distant hills... Cows wandering about on idly on the mounds, laying extremely healthy-looking patts on the daisies.
Time stands still. I’ve just driven through 90 minutes of Hell’s traffic to get here, and I’ve got about another 3 hours of B-roads to go before I arrive at my final destination (Ingleton)... But the stones are warm, lichen-smooth, and welcoming. And for now, right here, I am happy.
And Natasha is riding one of the angled ancient slabs like its a magic carpet. What a buzz.