Ah, thought so! The author wearing his mad butterfly-collector's hat - you've been spared the sunglasses and the shorts!
So on we go. Much refreshed and slightly lighter in the pocket. Down an old forgotten road now just a track through the trees.
Out into the sunlight once more. Buzzards and Red Kite fly overhead. The Kites must have bred near here somewhere. Twenty years ago there were none within two-hundred miles of here. Not many Buzzards either.
Past wheat fields ripening in the long-awaited sun.
And a long, sweeping path back towards Watton-at-Stone. Number of other people seen out walking today. Nought.