As we drive south for our walk, the fog thickens and I put on the car’s fog lights, yet some people are still driving without any lights at all.
Pulling off the main road, I head down the long drive to the car park, wondering whether there will be anyone there and am surprised to find business more or less as usual. The car park is busy; people wearing lycra stand around chatting after their runs while others whistle to their dogs as they return to their cars. Only the usual groups of young mothers with pre-school children are absent. Less for us to worry about then.
Away from the cars the fog blankets everything and deadens sound like snow. I stand still for a moment to sharpen my senses, listening to the drip, drip, drip of moisture off the trees, the occasional bark of a dog, a plane flying overhead along the flightpath to Heathrow and, unexpectedly, the bright chatter of a bird.
We walk on through the mist, sticking to the wide main paths. I’m soon able to orientate myself though, oddly better than usual, perhaps because I know I need to concentrate harder in poor visibility.
Nora soon sniffs out a path to the small pond where she likes to swim and I follow her down a narrow trail through some birch trees so that she can have her dip. She swims and fetches the stick I throw her until it disintegrates and then we return to the car.