I breathed into my Christmas-red scarf to prevent the cold air from making me cough and at last we stood on top of the ancient hill fort, alone except for Iron Age ghosts.
Merseyside twinkled below and at midnight, the land all around erupted with a thousand tiny explosions. Orion threw off his cloudy cloak and flashed his rhinestone belt at us and all the while the wind blew through our hair and we stood wrapped up in each other.
We went back next day, for a longer walk and watched a peregrine, slicing through the wild wind like a grey Zorro. A female kestrel perched on a telegraph pole, hunched and peering down into the scrub below for a furry meal. We perched on limestone outcrops and ate mince pies, facing Moel Famau and the rest of the gently rounded Clwydian hills. Shafts of silver sun shone down through slits in the grey cloud, like someone shining a torch through floorboards.
My New Year resolution: to simplify. I’m off to a good start.