Losehill

Liz treated me to a night in the Peak with her. It's been booked for ages. I was horrified on Thursday to find myself coming down with something. Even more horrified yesterday to discover how appalling  I felt. Worried that Saturday would be bed-bound and my biggest concern of all that Liz would have germs inflicting on her in close proximity for almost 36 hours.

She doesn't have my mentality. Bugs don't bother her. We are so similar in many ways but poles apart here. After trying to persuade her to take someone else, she insisted that if I was well enough, I was coming.

So, with every remedy under the sun, I went to bed with determination but little true hope. 

It was with surprise this morning then, that I opened my eyes feeling rested and better than yesterday morning. My bike was out of the question, still with killer throat and cough, but then the 50mph gusts weren't so inviting anyway!

Instead, we've had a cafe, slow walk (that wouldn't have been on the cards yesterday) and a wonderful meal this evening. We're staying on Losehill, an odd name we thought. Until we discovered there is a Winhill linked to a battle that was won and lost here.

I've chatted far more than I should have done... If I could have blipped serrated knives, I might have done. But going to bed feeling like we've both enjoyed the day (despite the fear of possibly bugging Liz) is a good feeling. 

Am I winning myself? Uncertain. But it's a possibility.