PADDLEBOARDING WITH WILBUR
It’s three-something in the morning and a thousand crickets are dancing on the fibreglass roof by the banks of Derwentwater.
We’re in our home on wheels where we have spent seven sweet days of spring marvelling at the moonlit dash to the shower block and the unspoken communion that happens between us campers as we compare awnings and what’s being cooked at breakfast.
There are three of us. Me, my partner and the goodest boy: Wilbur a vizsla, who is five years old.
Each morning, we ready ourselves for the day’s expedition on
