A strange old year



2016 has been a strange old year. A lot of ‘givens’ have at best, been challenged and the world has changed in ways we could not have conceived previously. There are things that haven’t changed though. The sun is currently arcing over my favourite hill. A ‘mountain’ we lowlanders amusingly call it. At times in its history this lump has been important. Less so now. It sits and watches quietly. Celtic burial mounds sit on its top, giving the spirits of ancient warriors a marvellous view over the Bristol Channel. When I ride up there and feel the adrenaline coursing though my veins, the rewards are so great that everything else dissipates. It’ll be there tonight and tomorrow and the day after. Buzzards will surf the thermals. Moorland birds will flit busily. Cattle will chew and watch and swipe flies with their tails. I’ll brush off modernity and roll through the wind that’s buffeted the mountain’s exposed flanks for millenia. A reward, if you will, for existence.

I bet you have a hill that strikes the same resonance or experiences that match. Go and enjoy them.

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