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I went up North at the weekend and escaped the terrible London weather.

The Peak District is so beautiful. Of course I thought it was pretty boring when I was a teenager, but now I love it. We went for a stroll near the house and cooed over the little lambs. Ash just spoke of mint sauce.

Despite loving sport, to convince me to go on a walk, you generally need to dangle the proverbial carrot. Thus it was that we came to be at the Grindleford Station Cafe, the legendary walker’s and climber’s caff.

I’ve been going to the GSC since I was a baby and was sad to learn that the owner, Philip, died last year. I was concerned that all the fluro signs and warnings would have disappeared and unfortunately, they nearly all had. Last time I went, there were hundreds of them, all offering warnings to be heeded upon pain of death, mainly about the illegality of substitions on the set breakfast and keeping your nippers under control.

The food was still brilliant though. It’s insane the amount they give you. You’ve gotta see the chip butty to believe it!!! And the parkin rocks.

Ash likes the caff

With my newfound thirst for walking, we parked the car at Hope Station and went for a walk up Kinder Scout with some sandwiches and flasks of coffee. After a rambling through the peaks, we descended to Edale where we got the train back to Hope. It was lovely.

 

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