I step out.
Exit the drive.
Derwen Fawr Road, left or right?
I go left.
I wince at the tightness in my unbroken boots.
For the first time I feel the day.
Drizzle, breeze, freshness.
Around the corner onto The Bryn I feel the gradient in the back of my calves.
Up the hill, I’ll see it soon.
Onto Golwg Hafren, a dead end at the cyclamen pot.
‘Cul-de-sac’ as they say in France.
I turn parade ground…