I managed to get out over the weekend.
This, in itself was an achievement. I’ve had a niggling illness, which has hung around like the proverbial bad smell.
No matter how I ‘look after myself’, eschewing alcohol and seeking psychosomatic solace in fresh fruit and ‘veg, my clattering chest gets no better.
Consequently, this was no 20-mile marathon in Derbyshire peat, just a stroll over Formby point.
The trip did bring back plenty of memories, though. I came here over a decade ago to watch red squirrels, hear the virtues of protecting Natterjack Toads and find out how I could recycle my Christmas tree to protect fragile sand dune systems (fans of fake festive firs need not apply).
Initially, I had the same feeling this weekend as I did all those years ago… that Formby point is a bit of a National Trust theme park.
I was missing the point, though. After a bracing walk along the expansive beach and and a lonely stroll amid the pines bathed in a warm Easter sun, I felt restored.
Sometimes, the simple things will do.