"We should be OK through the woods and round the lake."

"The field may be boggy. We haven't been all the way down through the woods past the rock for ages. We could go that way. It's a bit shorter too and we are later than usual."

We set off down the lane. The Old Dog stops and wees right in the gateway of the neighbour's dog. Right in front of the dog herself.

"Well that's a bit gratuitous. Weeing on someone else's patch while she's watching." But the Old Dog walks on without looking back.

"It's warm in the sun," declared the Webmaster, 'but I don't want to go walking through bogs."

"Where do you mean?"

"Well the route you picked last Sunday."

"With all the rain, everywhere will be boggy unless we stick to the roads. Why don't we do the Tongue Lane route and extend it out to Broad Lane. There aren't many stiles so it will be a bit easier for the Old Dog."

"You just want to see if the road has been properly fixed", accused the Webmaster, refering to an email he received from the council a couple of days ago reporting that they had completed the repairs to the pot hole he reported.

"The weather is OK today, we should get a walk in."

"It's going to be muddy after all the rain over the last two days."

"That's OK. I've got my boots."

It is Sunday morning and we take our time. The dogs are getting impatient. They didn't get a walk yesterday, they refused to go outside in the heavy rain, and are making a fuss now.

It is dry and mild when we set off. We don't take waterproof clothes. We will risk getting wet if it rains.

"If you don't hurry up it will be too late to go."

"It isn't going to get any darker."

It is just after six pm when we set off.

"It's foggy. We'll need the torches on full power. And we should stay off the road, let's just go down to the hill and then straight over and back."

"It's raining, we'll need coats."

"Have you seen my gloves?"

"Proper gloves or those woolly things with holes in the fingers?"

"The yellow pair."

"No."

"It's cold. I'm cold."

"You'll warm up when we get going. And when it's more sheltered. It's that North East wind the weather forecast mentioned."

"Brrr. Should've brought gloves."

We head down the lane. Weak sunshine and patches of blue sky make it looker warmer than it feels, but in the distance the sky is darker. We wonder whether it will rain.

At the bottom of the lane the dogs turn, confidently, onto the path through the farmyard.

"If we go now we'll just catch the last glimmers of sun."

"First evening walk after the hour changed. It was still light at this time last Thursday. Soon it will be completely dark before we can set off."

"Maybe we should stop for the winter, it isn't as though we can see anything."

"We need some fresh air and exercise, and we might see badgers or bats or owls."

"It hasn't rained much so we should be OK."

The Webmaster is suggesting our traditional route down through the woods and round the lake. I put my walking boots on.

We set off. It is warm, cloudy and dull, slightly damp but not raining.  At the bottom of the lane the dogs turn into the farm yard. They always want to go this way and today they're in luck. 

"That's just over 500 metres." We have decided to track our walking routes with our GPS watch and attempt to overlay them onto the map with the GIS system we recently acquired. "I haven't charged this since the last time I went for a run and it has less then half its battery power left."

"It's getting cold."

"I've got my woolly gloves. Pity about the holes in the two index fingers. You could have bought me a new pair for my birthday. 99p from the local supermarket."

"Shame about the tree. I did think it was supposed to be like that."

"I've started looking through the old photos for a picture of what it used to be like. Twenty five feet tall tree in the garden and we didn't notice it had died."

"Do I need gloves?"

"We need to take the torches, it's already going dark."

We set off but stop before we reach our gate.

"It's definitely dead." We look up the garden. The tree we spent all yesterday afternoon cutting free of strappy sycamore sapplings and leggy holly trees that had grown up round it was bare. It's bark wrinkled. That part of the garden had become overgrown. Sycamore and holly grow like weeds. It is almost a full time job pulling them up and for a few years we hadn't take much notice of this part of the garden.

"Is there a good walk towards Horton?" asked the Webmaster.

"I'll look on the map I made, I found all the Staffordshire rights of way. It's got most of the paths. The only ones missing are those round the Serpentine and past the visitors centre."

I print out a section of the map I made yesterday using OS OpenMap Local data, rights of way data from the county council and my very novice GIS skills.

We select a route. It doesn't go to Horton but it includes paths we have not walked before and it criss crosses lanes we know well from running.

"Change your shoes, we can go in five minutes" says the Webmaster as the Worker comes in through the door.

"I"m very tired."

"We don't have to go for a walk if you don't want to" offers the Webmaster, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Let's go. It might make me feel better."

The Webmaster looks for the torches. We had forgotten them last night, but fortunately we had set out early and had managed an extended evening walk while it was still light enough to be safe on the lane without them.

"It's a bit grim out there this morning" said the Webmaster as he brought me my first cup of tea of the day. He shivered and climbed back into the bed.

 Outside it is grey and overcast. "Are you suggesting we don't have a long walk?"

"No, but it's trying to drizzle."

We are in no hurry. We lounge around reading on-line newspapers. The Webmaster checks his facebook feed. He shows me a short video of a dog and bird chasing each other around a rock but I've seen it before. Times passes. Eventually we tire of reading articles about Brexit, marmite, Article 50 and the link between the prime minister opening her mouth and the pound sliding on the foreign exchange.

"Come on. I thought we were going an hour ago."

"We've been doing other things. The Student is worried about transferring her money."

"She just has to go for it. Once its done she has the dollars in her account and further falls won't affect their value. If it goes up she's missed out on some savings."

"Where are my shoes?"

"Will you bring me the map? The old tatty one. It's on the top of the book shelves somewhere."

The Webmaster disappears and returns a few minutes later with the map. "Why do you want it?"

"To look for a new route."

"Oh! You want to go down new paths, with the dogs?"

"Why not? It's light. I'd rather explore new routes when we can see where we are going."

"It's 10:30, are you ready? The dogs are making a fuss" the Webmaster yells up the stairs. I am in bed reading on-line newspapers.

"I can't find my trousers. You put them away somewhere different every time. Where are they?" Although I haven't looked, it is a safe bet.

"Drying from yesterday's washing."

"I've got more than one pair. Where are the others?" shouting down the stairs and jumping out of bed.

"The clouds are the same type as when we had the spectacular sunset last week."

"I can't see the sun at all or any sign of a sunset."

"The clouds are too thick. It is up there behind the murky clouds." The Webmaster waved his arm in the general direction of the sun.

"It's come up in California. I saw it in the sun rise photographs from the Student's early morning hike."

"It's cold. I'm putting on a fleece."

"I'm taking my gloves. And we can take the camera in case there is a colourful sunset. But it isn't such good light as yesterday."

We set off down the lane. The sun is still clearly visible above the horizon but the sky is turning red and the clouds are streaked with pink and orange.

"Let's go up the hill first. If we go all the way round the sun will be down before we get to the top."

Both dogs are dashing about in an excited state. They know we will be setting out on our Sunday morning walk soon. They missed their long walk yesterday and only got to dash round their usual weekday route because we were going out for the day. Now they are circling the furniture and following us up and down stairs as though to prevent us leaving without them. They do this every weekend. They must know when it is the weekend.

"Sit. SIT!" the Webmaster is trying to calm the Young Dog. "Are you ready?"

"It's cold tonight, it hasn't been this cold for ages."

"Those clouds are interesting, those with the pink tops."

"Which clouds? I can't see any. .. Oh those, I can see them now there is a gap in the hedge."

"Shortarse!"