Direction wasn't an issue.
The day just blasted in and I couldn't get out of the house fast enough once I'd found my sunglasses. The tracks were sticky with black mud that sucked at my boots, that felt like they would suck me down if I stopped slithering for long enough. But there was a hint of gold on the gorse and a few tiny lambs napping on grassy banks. Shadows were writing secret messages along the fence.
Ways I had walked out other times made broken tracks across flooded fields and fell into the tidal rush of the snaking river.
And from higher ground, as I turned away from the wind rush, the hat and scarf went into my bag for the first time this year.
I sat on the steps watching the shadows swing round, waiting for the tide to fall away some more so I could be the first to step on the newly swept beach. Out on gritty sand and broken shells, I ventured to take my coat off and just sat there for the rest of the afternoon next to half buried rope.
And it didn't take long for that wonderful brain unwinding that I've been waiting for, that I can never find indoors, to run away with me. And I was gone. Phew - what a relief!!