ON THE ROAD AGAIN

At the crack of dawn this morning my son set of on a well deserved break to The Dark Peak in Derbyshire,a splendid place to be in hot weather as there is always a good breeze. From the top of Mam Tor hang gliders daily launch in to the abyss,amazingly most of them land safely,it fun to watch but you need to keep your wits about you if the wind changes direction.

Some years ago, I flew a kite off the top of the tor in a gale, the wind was so strong that I could barely stand . I let out the line as far as it would go and goodness me have the kite string screamed in the wind,as I held on to the string firmly and held on to a fence post just as firmly with the other hand, I must have been stark raving mad!

If you listened to my mother she would tell you that this incident was typical , I once almost scared her out of her wits when she found me walking a home made tight rope over a deep grain pit, empty except for a massive harrow with fearsome teeth which has been stretched out below. Even I get the shakes when I think about it now.

I doubt if my son will engage in any such dangerous practices,having said that almost everything one does on the high peak is potentially dangerous. Summer and winter alike the rescue teams are out dealing with people who have become trapped in potholes,stranded on a high cliff or who are just plain lost. Even in summer time a thick fog can descend in moments, in such circumstances sat-nav is useless and the best thing to do is sit tight.

On on of the highest peaks above Castleton there is a small cairn dedicated to the memory of a local child who became lost in a blizzard while tending sheep;to this day the spot is called “Lost Lad” and wears an air of sadness.

A few months before we left the area and moved south we had a terrible winter,snow fell day after day and the wind blew the fine power in to huge drifts. In the small town of Cheadle in the Staffordshire Moorlands a postman fell in to on of these drifts while on his rounds and died of hypothermia, it was some days before his body was discovered.

Up on the high peaks the winters are always severe,travelling can be impossible for weeks at a time and telephone and electricity are usually out of action at such times. As a child I became used to candle light, cold water baths and cooking on a n open fire,actually I loved it,except for bed time when, with the candle blown out for safety my room was as dark as The Peak Cavern and during the night my warm breath would freeze on the blanket.

When the weather became really bad my mother would move us children down stairs where .in her company we slept before the fire on and assortment of sofas and an old sofa bed. She told us stories and we had lovely suppers,like herrings on toast cook on the fire by my father who was in has element at such times. It was an adventure , with the added bonus of no school and we revelled in the snow and ice.

In 1963 the boy from The Hall taught me to ski and I was able to get to the village three and a half miles away across the endless drifts. We built an igloo and of course lots of snowmen,it was a wonderful place to be a child.

My son, now a grown man will I suspect spend much of his time walking, reading and caving,having written three full length novels in as many months I hope he finds time to rest and relax too. He returns on Friday and begins another book the following Mondays.

I am so grateful for his success, he had become desperately unhappy in his former employment ,now he smiles and laughs all the time. He is a young man who has always made his own chances and can be justly proud of his achievements as an author. Yet for me all my pride in him is for the man he has become. He was beautiful baby and a dear little by yet I love the man he now is so much more than I could ever have imagined. For this and for his happiness I thank the Gods.