Threshfield...

It’s a wet day in Wharfedale, with the kind of light drizzle that will soak you to the skin in five minutes. I’m parked up in my favourite campsite, near Threshfield. I’d planned to process a backlog of pix, work on my book, finish an article and do the ‘housework’: shower, wash my clothes, charge up everything that needs charging, etc. But the gout’s come back, and I’m feeling a bit grumpy. I’m tempted by plan B: go back to bed and listen to the radio…