In a moment of drunkenness madness last month, I agreed to go to Sheffield in August.

Not that I don't like Sheffield, with its lovely rivers and hillsides and... Meadowhall... and... er... steel...

Yeah, okay, I know nothing about Sheffield. But I also have nothing against it. And that's not why I'm now questioning my drunkenness the sanity of agreeing to going on this trip.

Because the issue is not that we're going to Sheffield.
The issue is that we're walking to Sheffield.

As the crow flies, the distance between Manchester and Sheffield is 30.88 miles, or 49.7 kilometres. Sadly, however, I am not a crow - nor have I yet finalised my one-woman flying machine, or found anywhere local from where I can rent an Icarus suit - so I will be walking a slightly more round-about route which will add a few more miles onto the journey.

And then, of course, there are these...

yorkshire pennines

The Pennines.

Which, admittedly, do look rather fine in the picture above, especially with all that lovely summery blue sky in the frame.

*peers outside window at current lashing monsoon - which, according to the Met office, is set to last for the rest of the summer, if not in fact until the very end of time itself*

Still, I'm feeling positive about it. Or at least I was, until I received the first details on the route that we're taking and noticed this all-too-evocative name...

Standedge Trail.

Dooooooooooooooooooooooom........