The forecast said it was going to rain, so really it was just a question of acknowledging that I was going to get wet, and if I was going to get wet, I may as well embrace it and go somewhere where's it's already wet and just get wetter. I was also in the market for bacon, and as I splashed my way back in to the Macc Forest visitors centre car park after 11 miles of running around in the clouds, my enquiry to the man from the Nice Nosh van who was still setting up declared it was never too early for bacon, and got the griddle on. Result.
The view of Shuttlingsloe last Sunday was minimal, as was the view from the top. I always harp on about the views from up top and how it justifies the relatively minimal effort it takes to get there. But last week, the absence of any view whatsoever seemed just as rewarding, if not more so. Just the rattle of wind and rain on my hood and that numb, yet stingy sensation of a weather battered face. It all culminated in a curiously satisfying experience. What could have been dismissed as a rain-check, turned out to the best bacon of the week.
