“Oslooo!” I called out to my three-year-old Trailhound, his little tail waved in the air as he leapt over to greet me. We bounded up the stairs leading to the summit of Mam Tor, two steps at a time as the sky was already a magical glow of pink and orange. My eyes were heavy but all I needed was this country air to revive me; air that smelt like early springtime freshness, the promise of change and excitement, of a long, warm summer spent happily in the hills. 

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