I was like a caged beast roaring in our front room. Even the postman jumped and ran away when he spotted me there behind the bay window - roaring like a tiger with a thorn in its paw. But, yesterday (I believe in yesterday) I managed to break out of the cage in order to undertake a bracing. country walk.
Because the COVID police and COVID informers are prevalent these days, I did not dare to go far. Still within Sheffield's city limits, I parked in the hamlet of Brightholmlee near Wharncliffe Side.
It was a lovely day with an anticyclonic chill in the air and swathes of sunshine radiating from a sky blue sky. With boots double-tied, I left Clint by an old stone barn.
Being his usual charming self he muttered, "I hope this bloody barn doesn't tumble down on me while you are away frolicking in the countryside like a ruddy morris dancer!"
Soon I was down by More Hall Reservoir, marching on to Broomhead Reservoir then winding up the valley side past Raynor Hall Farm. What a trudge that was. Up and up. One of the many advantages of walking on your own is that you can take rests whenever you want. There's no need to explain.
Then along the high level lanes between the valleys of The River Don and The River Loxley. Very little traffic up there. Occasional isolated farms and houses. What would life be like living up there in splendid isolation? Not my cup of tea at all. Okay for a peaceful holiday week but to live there full time? No way. The caged beast would be roaring constantly- "I'm not a celebrity - get me out of here!"
By the time I crept up on Clint and shouted "Boo!" I had walked at least six hard miles and felt thoroughly invigorated.