I'd been worrying about my Buxton Rambling Club walk for weeks, for no good reason. In the end there were 12 of us chattering non-stop for about 15 miles, all fairly happy as far as I could tell, even the 'new girl' Julie, who was very determined, very cheerful but found the steep bits very hard work. She admitted cheerfully 'I'm just too fat!'
There were a few unplanned stretches, such as bounding over bogs and tussocks where I mistook a sheep-track for the footpath and, memorably, happening upon Red Brook and scrambling up it instead of keeping to the path. The river with its boulders and deep orangey-brown pools was more fun.
Di Denvers said Sheffield had been wonderful for her daughters, both of whom went there and loved it - friendly, go-ahead, excellent teaching, excellent employment prospects. Andy said the same, as he'd studied electronics there himself. I passed this on to Catherine, but she was feeling and looking blitzed after a day of maths and English. She said 'I just don't get some of the maths questions. I spent hours working out what I should be doing.' 'Do you need to ask the teacher then?' 'Oh no, I worked it out for myself, but it took so long, and now I have English to do as well.' Poor girl; she has another three months of this constant mental battering. There seems no way out but through, and the best to hope for seems occasional days or half days off for the sake of sanity. As she says, it's the same for everybody, but with Mocks next month and coursework piling on as well as revision, it must feel like facing the Berlin Wall.
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