One glorious day last summer, a bunch of us MSc students gnawed our legs out of their manacles and took ourselves off for a glorious ramble through the Pentlands.
The early part of the trail wound beside stone walls, over rolling wild fields.
Freshly shorn. (This was July.)
The fluffy-headed grass blew fiercely in the fierce wind. With all of the ferocity of something very, very fluffy.