you can take the girl out of Derbyshire…

These hills and moors of mine.  I can’t imagine ever knowing anywhere else the way I know this landscape.  I’ve been walking them alone for the last twenty years.  I feel safe out here.  I know where I am (and who I am…) by the shape of the hills.

I ran away from Derbyshire, as soon as I could.  I went to Durham; it wasn’t far enough.  I went to Nepal; it still wasn’t far enough.  I couldn’t escape the memories.  Then I moved to Hampshire.  That was a distance too far.  I didn’t belong there, couldn’t settle.  There were no hills, no open spaces.  I couldn’t breathe.  The memories crowded closer.

And then I came back to Derbyshire.  To the hills.  Half the time, I’m still desperate to escape, anywhere, but on the journey back, I’m looking out for that first glimpse of the familiar scenery.

This afternoon was a much needed oasis of calm in a crazybusy week of conflicting schedules.  I’m thinking of magicking up an eighth day, just to get some time together.

 

 

 

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9 Comments

Filed under favourite places

9 responses to “you can take the girl out of Derbyshire…

  1. katherinea

    If you find an eighth day please may I share it?

  2. Liz

    If there’s an eighth day, please can it be at the weekend?

  3. Sugar

    I second both Liz and Katherine’s requests.

  4. jo

    Others dream in black and white, but I dream. In ochres and siennas.
    I believe I know exactly what you mean. And I’m a Yorkshire lass!

    Different landscape, but similar feeling for me, are the streets of Brooklyn. Crowded, dirty and rude? Perhaps, at times. But I know some of them so intimately, I think my ghost will tramp up and down them some day; bag slung over one arm, traversing the most certain way I know how – by foot.

    Walking’s the anti jet lag. When you walk you Know how you got there. Otherwise the arrival, and the journey, might not be real.

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