I took Muttley out tonight, to my favourite place. It’s a place I don’t share with anyone. I never take friends or mention it to anyone – it’s mine.
Mile upon mile of fields in the middle of nowhere. A beautiful stone church with fallen gravestones and numerous famous ghost stories. A lake over which the sun sets with such grace it makes you stop a while.
I park up, loosen my hair from its tight plait and shrug on my jacket. Muttley steps into his harness and then waits patiently as I climb over the first wooden stile into a field full of wildflowers.
The path climbs steadily upwards and the higher I get, the more ferociously the wind blows through my loose hair. Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, the way they always do when I’m walking into the wind.
Miles pass me by, and I circle back onto the road where we parked. The sun is beginning to set, the day disappearing into darkness with each step I take.
It’s blissful. It’s silent. It’s the solitude I’ve so desperately needed these last few days.