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    A walk on Bodmin Moor

    Self-care and a book idea Out on the wily windy moors I certainly didn’t ‘roll and fall in green’ as Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights proclaimed. More like, roll and fall in the mud. Bodmin Moor in the winter (certainly, in any month of the year) can be summarised in one word: wet.  The worn passages, made by man and beast, resemble trickling streams. These small tributaries shine like silver in the watery sunlight, nestled between tussocks of yellowing grass and scattered granite. However, the atmosphere on the day I decided to walk the moors was unusual. The golden light from the low winter sun had cooled to a blue tone.…