I'm going to indulge in a tribute to my daughter.

Miranda McVeigh, born in Haringey, brought up in the Ariège, turned twenty in Co. Down. 

She's back in the Bled  and wants to walk the Résistants's forest this afternoon.  

We slither through the mud churned by the forestiers and then find wilder paths that take us up to the lake on the edge of the forest. She slips and falls and laughs at herself as I pull her up.  She says she feels nostalgic about falling over, as if she were a child again. 

We hold hands as we walk.  We always have.