Gripping the edge of mountains and looking down: Masada when I was 13, belly-crawling to the edge to see a disappointing stretch of sand; Scafell, in a snowstorm, huddling in a lee with friends before the clouds broke; Striding Edge, in the snow, where the hunter and his horse fell; the Roaches, in the snow, […]

…and I’m still working on the feature at 4am. I miss the dawn I’m writing so hard, lightening paragraphs with sips of akavit. I roll into bed at 6.30am, next to a sleeptalking V, and doze off…

…”MARGARET” comes the cry, jolting us both awake.