Before we all went out to dinner that night, I herded the children across the Downs to show them the suspension bridge. It was starting to rain but I reminded them that we live in Scotland and nothing that doesn't come at you horizontally can be considered rain in our lexicon. I always travel extremely light and didn't bring a change of clothes which is how it came to pass that I was soon scrambling down a vertical gorge in a torrential downpour, wearing knee boots, with my dress tucked in my knickers.
These feral goats have been introduced to help re-establish wildflowers and grasses by keeping down scrub. Tending to such creatures is what my volunteer shepherdess half-sister does on the Pennines and I am very envious.
We arrived back soaked to our underwear and with twigs in our hair, but very happy. Actually, that's a partial lie - the children were quite bitter and muttering furious oaths at me, but I was very happy.