Let’s be honest for a moment, shall we? Yes, winter in the hills is amazing. The rasping, revitalising bite of the wind on your skin. The pristine, clear air. The gorgeous, low sun. But as the day begins to wane, the sky deepens and the temperature starts to fall, what you’re really thinking about is the pub. Lovely, firelit windows... hot, tasty food and rich, fruity winter ales lined up along the bar like colourful, robust soldiers.
And then into crisply-sheeted, snuggly-duveted, sink-into-’em beds – blissfully bereft of mobile reception – from which to listen to the icy wind howl outside, a long lie-in while the world brightens the next morning and then a huge and hearty breakfast to tuck into. Shall we stay another night? Oh, go on then...…