The trouble with bodies is that by the time they realise you are on holiday and don’t have to get up… you are not, and you do. So I was up long before dawn, as usual, scraping the ice from the windscreen and wandering down to the River Irt to watch the first light write a book of shadows on the water. The river is famous for its ‘gin-clear’ waters and as an Atlantic Salmon run. It flows into the Esk nearby… and the Esk was a name we would come across more than once at special places.

By eight I was sitting outside the mechanic’s workshop… our hostess had assured us that he would be there then. By half past I gave up and went back for breakfast in the sun room. We waited a little longer and wandered down to watch the mist wraiths dance on the river…