We’ve done it before, more then once – from the end of the surfaced lane up onto the edge, then south-eastwards along the crest to the point where it peters out, almost at the main road. There’s a red kite quartering Corvedale, gradually working its way southwards and out of sight. The return route follows the stream, barely a trickle today, before tending away to its west and up to the manor house, where there’s tea and coffee, but we’re too late for the cakes – they’re all gone. A Twix will suffice – it’s not far back to the car.