A crisp Monday morning in November, near Ashbourne, Derbyshire.

The majestic British countryside has inspired many a great writer.

Take this, perhaps Wordsworth’s most famous poem (and my favourite of his):

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Wordsworth was inspired to write these words after a taking a walk with his sister in the Lake District.

Wonderful things happen when you wander.

The best ideas often emerge from a momentary daydream. A detour on a walk; a chance encounter with an old friend; a decision to get on a bus and see where it takes you.

This is the wonderful world of wander.

Those moments when you break free from your normal routine and explore something new.

As Danny Wallace would say: those times when you just say yes.