I rather like the well-publicised recent story of the librarian who celebrated her 60th birthday with a list of 'things to do' that were not too dramatic, but potentially very pleasurable. You won't catch me abseiling or skydiving, but indolent as I am, rather more modest targets appeal to me.
And last week, to celebrate my birthday, I achieved one long-held ambition, to go to the summit of Snowdon, the tallest peak in England and Wales and at the heart of one of my favourite areas. No, I didn't go scaling up any cliff-face. The train journey - which, through a delay, turned into a three hour round trip - was good enough for me. Mind you, scrambling up to the top from the train terminus was quite an experience, given the gale that was blowing. Luckily, I didn't fall off, and before long the mist cleared and the sun shone through.
Several crime novels have been set on mountains - Glyn Carr wrote a number, though I haven't read any of his work. I don't know anything about climbing, but I must admit I was tempted by the idea of a short story set on Snowdon, and mused on a possible plot during the journey back to Llanberis.
Getting out and about to inspiring places is good for a writer, I think, and I only wish I had more time to do more of it. But perhaps one of these days, this will be possible. In the meantime, though, the short story has to be put on hold. At present the priority is to work out the story-line for the next Lake District Mystery!