I could start blogs by exclaiming how long it has been since I blogged, but with the way my work-life takes over, I will be starting most blogs that way and it seems like impending repetition. Instead, I will, from the next blog, start by launching right in as though I have not missed a day of posting. It's the way I start many conversations - some part of me being sure that telepathy is a thing and everyone know the discussion I have been having in my head.

So, (and I can start that way, because I am not writing a piece for an English GCSE exam, so there) I went for a walk up a mountain today. It wasn't the intention. We are in the Lakes on holiday and we did mean to go for a walk - we didn't actually fall out of the door and accidentally take three collies out. Okay, two collies and a collie-cross (possibly - no-one is quite sure and she isn't telling). We meant to go for a couple of hours round the base of Blencathra.

It's just...we listened to some music from Skyrim before we set off, so we were already primed to see a track leading off up a hill and be overcome by an intense need to follow it.

I have to admit, I was not expecting the scrabbling or the snow.

At one point, we considered bouncing from side to side to see if that got us straight up the mountain, but on balance we decided we should stick to walking. Another time, I was certain we had come to the edge of the map, as I was stepping but not getting anywhere, what with how steep the scree slope disguised as a path was.

Sadly, we did not find any caves full of treasure.

We did make it to the tarn and got to watch my middle dog, the white and black border collie with a tail like a banner, go fishing for rocks. Usually, he loves people to throw things in for his, so he can swim out and catch them. As he generally accompanies this with high-pitched barks, and other people were climbing up Sharp Edge, not looking especially like they wanted to fall to their deaths at an unexpectedly sharp bark, we elected to leave him wading about by himself. He spent most of his time with his head under water, bringing out bigger and bigger rocks.

He did bark once. It echoed. A more impressive bark form him I have never heard. (No-one fell, so it was all good.)

My black and white border collie spent a fair bit of his time waiting for me to throw a ball from the ball-thrower - the ball-thrower we had not taken with us. The rest of the time, he spent gazing at sheep on other hills or guarding the back-pack from...I am assuming invisible spirits.

If we had turned back when we meant to, we would have missed all of that.