Witchend,swimming in the reservoir, Welsh ponies, clouds coming down over the Long Mynd - we're lost! In the nick of time the stiperstones loom out of the mist, the Devil's Chair outlined on the ridge like the spine of a sleeping dragon. 'If it wasn't for you pesky kids', and lashings of ginger beer. Oh no, that's the other one. Think I've inhaled too much Vick.