Fog is mysterious. It’s often seen as something that shrouds us, misguides us and leaves us feeling lost. It is dreary and claustrophobic to many but not me. I have always found it enticing and exciting. You can imagine yourself anywhere in the world now that the landscape has been painted over in shades of white. Here in the Peak District, when I was younger, the forests and woodland turned into the great pine forest of the Pacific North West. The hills morphed into Icelandic cliff tops and Highland fells. It allowed me to escape. It still does.

With all the uncertainty, bad news and...well everything that leaves you feeling worried about the future I’ve found that the early morning fog comforts me. I can escape to a new place again and imagine that it’s all gone away. I’ve always been introverted and need my time outside to recharge but ironically because of the worlds lockdown, outside has become busy. Early morning brings calm. The birds sing and everything is still. I can sit and listen to the world. I can let the worry drift off into the fog to get lost, hoping that it can’t find it’s way back to me.

I think that as we grow older we throw away our childish comfort blankets and replace them with something new. For me it’s the outside, the silence and the magic that the fog brings. I’m sure there are many other forms of “comfort blankets” and I think it’s important to find one to escape the chaos that is life. One that fills you with hope and happiness. One that calms you and allows you to breathe slow, listen and learn.

Here on this walk I had no plan. I set off up towards Lose Hill from Mam Tor but came to a stop only half way to Back Tor. I sat. I sat for about 15 minutes just looking out over the valley floor. Not only to clear my head but to remind myself that I am lucky and so often take it for granted. I watched the morning fog lift slowly up from the town beneath to the hill tops. I let the worry go with it.