On Sunday morning, I drove Chris over the Pennines to Manchester Airport for his flight home. We took the winding Snake Pass with its excellent views of Ladybower reservoir, the wild moors of The Snake summit and the curvaceous descent into the old milltown of Glossop. Sheep dotted the early morning hills beyond the ancient jigsaw patterns of dry stone walls - like the land's ribs - as a thin mist swirled in slow motion over the tops.
Chris said, "I'm so ashamed. What have we got to offer in America compared with all this?"