Let's just stay in and eat biscuits

If you want 2026 to be the year you finally finish that book you’ve been thinking about writing forever, come along to our writer’s workshop in Kendal in March.

A full weekend of workshops all about ‘getting it done’, with several special guests, lots of expertise, loads of snacks, and an all-round good time.

More information + reserve your spot

It’s Friday morning and it’s raining. Of course it is. I look at the weather app and it’s literally black clouds up until February 12th, as far as the long-range forecast goes.

We did have a sunny day on Wednesday. Fortuitously, it was the day that Kirsty and I had pencilled in a week and a half earlier to go for a run and have a meeting about a writing retreat we’re organising.

We did a favourite loop that we’ve done plenty of times before. Mainly because it’s pretty much exactly halfway between our houses, but also because it’s really nice. You run on some lanes and then up through the woods onto Whitbarrow, one of Wainwright’s outlying fells. There’s a huge cairn at the summit, and you can see the sea in front of you and all the bigger Lake District behind.

There’s a flat rocky path for a bit after that. I’m definitely not in the best shape right now and had found the uphill really hard (even though it’s only about 300 metres) - just couldn’t quite get my breath despite the extremely relaxed pace. Relieved to know it was basically all downhill from here, we were chatting away, then I must have clipped a rock or something, and the next thing I knew I was embarking on this quite dramatic forwards roll.

I went down on one shoulder and both hands first, then kind of bounced back onto my knees, making as many points of contact with the gravel as possible, apparently. The end result: ripped leggings, grazed right knee, swollen and bruised left knee, swollen left ankle, cut on my right hand, really sore left shoulder.

I should say: I’m very clumsy and have taken a lot of tumbles in the hills over the years. The summers I trained for the CCC and Lavaredo I felt like I had a permanent grazed knee. My Grandma was not impressed when I turned up to my cousin’s wedding minus pretty much all the skin on one shin. Falls on much rougher terrain, further from civilisation, resulting in worse injuries, often on my own.