So here’s my advice. Next time you’re sick of the seaside crowds, of the sand in your shoes, of the overpriced rock candy… drive to Derbyshire. Find the field. Stand in it. Feel the absolute dryness. Imagine every wave in England as a distant memory. You are now at the geographic epicenter of not being at the beach. It’s weirdly peaceful.
Will you be blown away? Metaphorically, maybe by the wind. Literally, also by the wind. But you’ll leave with a strange sense of satisfaction. You’ve touched the untouched. You’ve seen the place that the sea forgot. And you’ll probably need to wash your boots. But that’s a small price for being the king or queen of nowhere. Or as they call it locally: Tuesday.
P.S. – Don’t forget to bring a sandwich. The nearest fish and chip shop is, well, 70 miles away. You knew I had to say it.
