It’s a dark, foggy Monday morning. The kind of morning that makes everything feel like a drag, even, no especially, getting out of bed.
Despite the dull, dank start to the day and a touch of man flu, I force myself up and out of the house. Commuters have already begun their autonomous walk to the train station. As I drive passed these shadowy figures, draped in murky cloud, I start praying that my hunch is correct.
I’m barely out of the village when I find myself above the cloud line. My gamble has payed off and I head to the Cow and Calf relieved that I haven’t thrown away a potential lie-in or duvet day!
It’s hard to believe that just metres below, there is the lingering illusion of a drab, grey world. While those lucky enough to find themselves moor side can basque in the early morning sun and enjoy the fleeting splendour of Lower Wharfedale’s cloud inversion…