Setting out for a walk at 3.30 on the first Sunday in November, the sun already low in the sky. Straight up Cromford Hill to Black Rocks aware of the strength in my legs and the capacity of my lungs and grateful to be fit enough to do this. Then along the broad trail that was formerly a railway line. Being high up gives views over to Matlock, lit up by the setting sun. Greeting walkers headed the opposite way with a smile or hello. Through a beech wood, boots in the beech leaves. Down to the canal. Three swans gliding along in single file, the middle one still with the brown feathers of a cygnet. Mist is gathering under the trees and the rugby posts on Cromford Meadows. At the wharf a model steam engine rally is packing up. Along the road now back into Cromford. Cars have their headlights on. Take the washing in. Boots off. Cup of tea. Dark now.