The Curiosity Club

Frustrated by much of our home circle of friends forever coming up with excuses as to why they could not commit to a trip as life-changing as a long, relaxed weekend that would amount to little more than a jaunt in the countryside - our group is fairly male-centric, so there just might be a comment about commitment in there - three mates and I booked ourselves a few nights at the rustic YHA Hartington Hall and, before we knew it, we were on our way to the Peak District singing James Blunt at the top of our lungs. I've no idea either.
We'd heard that it was mandatory to confidently set off on a walk with spirit similar to Frodo and Samwise, get lost like the little hobbits did, and find ourselves seemingly having to traverse what was definitely the Mount Doom of the Peak District. Fortunate, then, that all we had to dodge was sheep in need of a shear as compared to orcs seeking The One Ring. With this mission completed and firmly under our quickly loosening belts, the Fellowship sought warmth and scenery that wasn't what felt like a cliff edge of a hill, and headed to the historic Leek. With the stereotypically badly-angled pictures of admittedly beautiful churches stored safely in our phone galleries never to be seen again, we were looking for somewhere - anywhere - to give our weary legs the rest they craved and, in our eyes, deserved. A dingy pub here, an almost deserted cafe there, we happened to pass Getliffe's Yard, an alley way with leafed arches overhead and promise of buzz within. We ventured in and, at the end, was a sign which read 'Prosecco: £10'. With a bottle or two polished off, we were soon back in the car and on our way home, content and probably a little bit tipsy.
The warm evening sun was in the roughly 7 o'clock position in the sky, allowing its rays to pierce the hedges that forever surrounded us, darting onto the thin road we were eating up. Being the one with the satellite navigation, I was the designated map reader, soon noticing what appeared to be Tittesworth Reservoir. Keen to make the most of the sun and good vibes the bubbles had instilled, I suggested we have a gander. Of course it then clouded over and we got advanced upon by surprisingly confident geese, but we persevered, and things came good. We basked in the sun, in each other's company, in silence (and happily so), in the knowledge that the friends we left at home would be watching crappy Saturday night TV they didn't even like. The bubbles will do that to you.