Early one morning, my brother in law drove me and my sister to Longshaw on his way to work. We planned to spend a day walking in the woods. It was a brisk but bright, early spring day, but once the car had driven away, rain started to fall and winds howled the loudest I’ve ever heard them. We were committed to our walk in the countryside, so we pulled our hoods up and embarked on our journey.

My sister often takes me to Longshaw for a walk because the countryside is nice and flat, and she knows I lack the coordination for steep inclines. I’m clumsy and have no sense of balance. The wind was strong enough to steal your breath and lift you off the ground as you walked. And the effort of trying to keep our hoods up soon didn’t seem worth it. She would laugh at me as I tried to follow her through the trees, only to find myself veered several metres from the path by the wind. I couldn’t hear a word she said to me, against the roaring chorus through the trees. We felt like we were a part of it. It was magical.

Eventually the rain stopped and the wind subsided a little, as we turned a corner, the clouds shifted and a rainbow emerged. It was the most Disney like scene I’ve ever experienced. Suddenly there were coal tits and goldfinch dancing on the ground. We stood perfectly still, huddled together, delightedly watching them. It wasn’t to last though, as a dog, wet, bedraggled and wild, ran through our picturesque glen and scared them off. All we were left with was the crows in the trees, cawing at us. Soon the rain returned, and we hid in a cafe for some respite, soggy and rosy cheeked. We sat by the window to watch the storm and we sent a text to ask to be collected. We only lasted in the wild weather until noon.