The weather was a bit miserable (grey, overcast and a bit drizzly), but you can't have everything. The house itself was set in beautiful grounds. While Andrew and Iain checked out the angling fair, Stuart and I roved around the gardens idly wishing we could push annoying small children into the water features, and getting lost whilst trying to find the maze. It was actually harder trying to find the damn maze than navigating your way to the centre of it. It did take us a few attempts to successfully find the centre of it though. We rendez-voused back at Iain's car, whereupon we set off to play footie with Stu's ball (a second outing for the 2000 version).

After annoying quite a few people by getting in the way, and getting liberally splashed with muddy water from the ball, we thought about moving on and picking up a few tarts. Bakewell tarts, that is! (No, it was funny. Yes it was.) Wanting a quick bite to eat, we went a couple of miles up the road to Bakewell to savour the local speciality. And to try a real Bakewell tart. They were actually very nice. After a pleasant meander around the town we retired to the Old Bakery for a couple of hours of rest before heading off to our chosen evening destination: Sheffield. None of us had been there before, and it was very close by (about half an hour's drive). Before we left, Andrew took a stroll along the river, and then he and I took a walk north of the village, across some fields and back round to Youlgreave.

We finally got to Sheffield around 8.30pm, after finding a reasonable place to park (this was harder than it seemed; unknowingly, we eventually selected one that was for permit holders and the disabled only). After a short reconaissance (illustrating to us that Sheffield looked and felt very much like Bristol), we decided a trip to Pizza Hut, then onto a pub would the best way to tackle the evening. Our stay in the Hut of Pizzas took slightly longer than anticipated however, thanks to a local wanker who took it upon himself to mouth off at some co-diners, then, after he left, to throw a bottle of Carling at the window. Some unfortunate people received small pieces broken glass in their dinner. The police were called, and the speedy efficient service that we had so far received disappeared equally as quickly. By the time we got out, we had barely time for a pint. We headed over to the Walkabout pub, where a decent enough band were playing covers of decent enough music at a good level of loudness. Tired but content, we walked back to the car shortly after 11pm and headed back to the Bakery.

Day 3 began at 9am, again kicking off with a full English breakfast (was that my arteries I just heard go pop?). This morning we had decided to make full use of the beautiful countryside that lay on our doorstep, and go for an extended walk. After perusing a booklet on ten walks around the area, we selected No.5: The Robin Hood's Stride walk. This one would take us south of Youlgreave to neighbouring village Elton, where we would basically turn around and head back on a slightly different route. It was a good 5 and a half miles, so we headed off straight away (within reason).

On the way round we encountered the site of an old Iron Age hilltop fort; the above-mentioned Robin Hood's Stride, which was swarming with thirty-something women; a hermit's cave (but no hermit, sadly); rocks that presented an excellent climbing challenge; a teashop in Elton offering superb cream teas; Andrew's penguin joke; lots of cowshit; and a final walk back to Youlgreave. It was quite warm work, as the sun had blessed us with its rays for most of the day, and the whole exercise took about 4 hours. However, I think we all agreed that this was the most enjoyable activity of the whole weekend. A very pleasant walk in very pleasant countryside with very pleasant weather, with lovely cream teas thrown in. Nice!

By the time we got back to the village, the time to disperse had sadly come around. Iain left first, driving off to meet up with his parents, who weren't very far away from that part of the country. Stuart, Andrew and I warily got back into my car, praying the windscreen would hold just a little longer, and drove off back to the rather flatter Cambridgeshire. We dropped Andrew off at Toft, stopping long enough to have a quick drink, and to pick up some train times for Stuart. After that second farewell, Stuart and I drove to the Cambridge train station, where he would (hopefully) be able to find a train that would get him back to Canterbury. After a third and final farewell, I returned home.

It was a great three days, for being both a reunion and a weekend break. It was good to be back together again, and lovely to explore that part of the country. Another resoundingly successful reunion!