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Welcome to Get Sleepy, where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy.
I'm your host, Thomas.
Thank you so much for joining me.
Tonight we'll follow two friends on an adventure in the Peak District Derbyshire, in the heart of England.
It's a place famed for its natural beauty, a world of hills, valleys, and never-ending countryside.
Amy and Michelle will explore the town of Eme before returning to the comforts of their caravan.
They'll sip on hot chocolate and toast marshmallows by the fire before settling in to watch a film.
I am delighted to be reading this one for you, as I actually lived in the Peak District for about 15 months a few years ago, and I adored my time up there.
Credit goes to Joe Steer for writing this one, and thank you to the lovely listener who requested this story.
I really hope you enjoy it.
Before we begin, let's take a few minutes to unwind.
Move into a position that feels comfortable to you.
Close your eyes as soon as you're ready and take your attention to the rhythm of your breath.
Observe the natural cycle of the inhale and exhale, including any pause that might occur between them.
Note where you feel it sweeping through the body, in your nose, throat, chest and belly.
In a moment, we'll begin a guided practice, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth.
We'll breathe in to the count of four, hold for one, and then breathe out for six.
Let's begin now.
Breathing in, two, three, four, hold, and out, two, three, four, five, six.
In again, 2, 3, 4, hold.
And out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
And one last time, breathing in, 2, 3, 4, hold.
And exhale, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Focusing on the breath can aid the transition from the busyness of the day to the stillness of evening.
Now, allow the breath to fade into the background.
We're ready to begin tonight's sleepy tale.
And there's nothing left to do but follow my voice to the lush green landscape of Derbyshire, England.
This is where our story begins.
Located in the East Midlands, in the middle of the country, Derbyshire is a region of immense beauty.
It's the English countryside, full of colour and character, with a skyline dominated by hills and valleys.
Covering an area of over a thousand square miles, it's home to countless natural landmarks.
Many of its attractions lie within the Peak District National Park, where the lands have been forged over millions of years.
There are soaring mossy peaks and steep limestone valleys, gritstone ridges, plateaus, and gorges.
Nature lovers visit to take in the natural landmarks, to hike along the trails and to swim in lakes and rivers.
Some come to wander through the quaint towns and villages that are nestled in the valleys against a backdrop of green mountains.
Many take refreshments in the pubs and cafes, resting their weary feet before heading back to their accommodations.
The region is home to a plethora of campsites, with every kind of lodging, from homes with grassy tops built into the hillsides to canvas tents.
Amy and Michelle have come to a campsite near Eam, where they'll be staying in a vado, or caravan.
Also known as a Romany wagon, it's essentially a home pulled on four wheels.
It's instantly recognizable with its carved wooden frame, the dark wood decorated with intricate gold patterns.
Painted red steps lead up to a central doorway, below a curved roof dressed in bright green canvas.
A grove of pine trees offer privacy around the back, while the view from the front overlooks vast open fields.
Amy and Michelle were absolutely delighted to see where they were staying when they checked in this morning.
It's just what they wanted, charming and cozy, the perfect place to rest after a day of exploring.
The two middle-aged women have been friends since high school but now live some distance apart.
At least once a year, they take a trip away together to reminisce about times past and make new memories.
This year, both women found themselves longing to be in nature, which is why they booked a stay in the Hope Valley.
Today is the first of a four-day break which they plan to spend walking talking, eating and relaxing.
So far, they've only seen the Vardo very briefly.
They dropped off their belongings before heading out for the day.
They've spent the morning on roads and public footpaths, making their way to the village of Eam.
The Hope Valley has some of the best views in the region.
In the whole world, in fact, according to Amy.
They journeyed this morning through a lush and scenic landscape, past fields of green and yellow, rolling hills and woodland.
It's particularly lovely at this time of year, when the trees are changing their leaves for autumn.
Green canopies are made all the more beautiful by tones of yellow, red, brown and orange.
Some leaves have fallen and been carried by the wind onto the roads and footpaths where Amy and Michelle wander.
They decorate the ground, forming a natural carpet, one that displays the colors of the season.
The subtle smell of rain hangs in the air, and the ground is still wet from a downpour this morning.
Amy feels that she can smell autumn.
Wet leaves, conkers, pine cones, and resin.
The weather forecast had predicted rain all day, but after an initial wet spell, it's turned out to be warm and sunny.
The grey clouds have all but disappeared, leaving a smattering of thin white clouds and plenty of golden sunshine.
People who see the friends walking together would likely never guess that it's been a whole year since they last saw one another.
As is often the way with very close friends, they are instantly comfortable in each other's presence.
As you might expect from friends on vacation, their demeanors are relaxed, untroubled, and cheerful.
There's a playful quality to their smiles and laughter reminiscent of children out on some adventure.
When they're not catching up on each other's lives or commenting on their surroundings in this lovely place, they are happy to be quiet and enjoy the moment to explore their senses with a friend beside them.
Both are grateful that there's enough of a breeze to keep them cool as they walk.
They are aptly dressed in their comfiest outdoor wear, with hiking boots, trousers and thin woolen jumpers, plus small backpacks containing essentials.
It's early afternoon by the time they see the sign welcoming visitors to the historic village.
At a glance, it looks like what they'd expect.
A quaint, sleepy village full of charm and character.
Quiet roads are flanked with old stone buildings Cottages, shops, pubs, and bed and breakfasts.
Pavements are bordered with old stone drywall, which looks to have been built centuries ago or more.
Buildings look well cared for, with painted doors and pretty gardens.
Communal lawns appear manicured, flowers watered, and benches cleaned.
The local post office glows scarlet in the sunshine, as dazzling in color, as if it's just been painted.
If it weren't for the cars parked up beside some buildings, then the friends might have wondered if they'd travelled back in time.
With hills on one side and valleys on the other, they feel worlds away from the hustle of modern life.
Most of the other people that they've encountered so far look to have been tourists exploring on foot.
One couple passed on bicycles before stopping at a cafe.
They propped their bikes against the wall and headed inside.
They've spotted a few locals out and about walking their dogs and made friendly conversation with a man outside a pub.
He was writing today's specials in chalk on a blackboard and made a persuasive argument for why they might dine there later.
Indeed, the friends might do just that, but only once they've explored a little further.
Michelle, in particular, is keen to see more, having read up on the history of this storied village.
She tells Amy about what she's read as the pair wander at a leisurely pace.
Eam's history is melancholy but meaningful.
It gained a reputation as the Plague Village.
In 1665, an outbreak of the bubonic plague struck England.
It's come to be known as the Great Plague of London.
That same year, the plague reached the village of Eam when a bundle of infected cloth was sent to a local tailor.
The tailor's assistant was the first to pass away, having touched the cloth and contracted the plague.
People turned to their church leaders for guidance, as disease began spreading around the village.
Reverend William Momperson and the Minister Thomas Stanley introduced a range of measures to stop the spread of the disease.
This included the decision to quarantine the village voluntarily, to sacrifice themselves so that others might live.
This resulted in the death of nearly 300 people.
Upwards of half the population of the village were lost to plague.
But it also undoubtedly saved many more lives by containing the disease and keeping it from spreading further.
The sacrifice made by these brave individuals is honored on green plaques throughout the village.
The names of victims and survivors are on the houses they lived in, ensuring that their stories are never forgotten.
Listening to this, Amy points to a plaque, and the women cross the road to read what it says.
It tells the story of this plague cottage, and lists the names of those who lived here.
There's a huge juxtaposition between the building's sad history and the charming stone cottage which stands two stories high.
The stunning front garden is brimming with life.
In places it is so abundant that it obscures the cottage behind it.
Plants and flowers of every color have been planted around a path leading to an olive green door.
The path is littered with statues of little animals dressed in fine tweed suits and countryside attire.
One particular white rabbit catches Michelle's eye.
He's holding out a bouquet of yellow flowers, as if presenting it as a gift.
Amy coos playfully at a nearby squirrel.
He is watering the garden in a hat and yellow trench coat.
Other ornaments are dotted around the garden, only partially visible between plants and bushes.
Some kind of water feature is completely hidden, but the sound of flowing water is unmistakable.
The friends share a moment of peace and quiet, leaning against the dry wall that runs around the front.
They gaze at the colors of leaves and petals and enjoy the sound of trickling water.
It's a beautiful way to commemorate the memory of the people who lived here during the Great Plague.
That's what Amy says, as she takes change from her pocket, dropping it into a donation box aimed at supporting the garden.
The friends continue on their way past many more historic buildings.
They walk slowly, stopping again and again to read commemorative plaques on the walls of buildings.
Having learnt about Eam's troubling past, Michelle had worried that the atmosphere might be morbid.
But now that she's here, she sees that it's nothing of the sort.
While the plaques evoke a mood of quiet contemplation, it's sweet and uplifting rather than sombre.
It's clear that the villagers who live in Eam today are very proud of its history and their brave ancestors.
You can see this in how the historic buildings are so cared for and the way that people's stories are commemorated on the sides of houses.
This uplifting mood even stretches to the churchyard, where the pea-green grass is peppered with headstones.
It's a grassy island bordered by trees of every kind, with the old stone church positioned at its center.
The friends wander through reading inscriptions on headstones, learning about the lives of those who lived in the village.
They study the autumn flowers that spring up around them, including bright yellow chrysanthemums and snow-white anemone.
Eventually, they come to a familiar headstone.
Its photograph was displayed on the welcome sign to the village.
It's almost as tall as the nearby pine trees, every inch of its surface decorated in Celtic knots and spirals.
A protective iron railing encircles the headstone, which Michelle has come across in her research in Tuim.
The so-called Celtic Cross is the pride of the village.
It's Anglo-Saxon, made in the 8th century.
It's thought to have been made in the Kingdom of Mercia, one of seven kingdoms that England was split into at the time.
Originally it was located along a nearby cart track, but was moved to the churchyard in the 14th century or before.
There's something quite moving to both of the women about being able to get close to such an artifact.
To see patterns that were sculpted over a millennia ago glowing in the sunshine of the 21st century.
The atmosphere in the churchyard is so blissfully peaceful that the friends unconsciously hush their voices.
Speaking in near whispers.
They both agree that it's about as lovely a resting place that anyone could wish for.
Next, they wander into the open church, where thick stone walls block out the sounds outside.
The friends' footsteps punctuate the stillness echoing between the floor tiles and the sky-high ceiling.
Most of the people that they've read about today would have worshipped here, at the Church of St.
Lawrence.
Knowing this stirs their emotions.
It fosters a sense of empathy with these people of the past.
The friends stroll slowly along the central aisle where the congregation would have queued to take Holy Communion.
Michelle admires the stained glass windows above the altar and wonders about the people who might have done the same before her.
Amy notes the mahogany pews, where the villagers would have sat and listened to sermons.
It's here that Thomas Stanley and William Momperson offered courage and comfort from the Jacobean pulpit.
Features like the pulpit remain as they were, while other things have been added in more recent years.
Stained glass windows tell of the plague in pictures immortalizing the bravery of the rectors and villagers.
A chair believed to have belonged to Mompeson is on display at the side of the altar.
An open book is on show within a glass cabinet so that the friends can read what's written across its pages.
Medieval handwriting lists the name of every local who passed away as a result of the plague.
There are family names that the women recognize beside a colorful border outlined in thick gold.
At the top right of the page.
The first letter of the introduction is far larger and more colourful than the rest of the text.
A red and gold letter H is as much artwork as it is writing, with an image of the church painted within its frame.
Once the friends are satisfied that they've explored the building, they wander out into the churchyard.
It takes a few moments for their senses to adjust to the glow of daylight and the sound of birds and the breeze.
Amy notes, as they leave the churchyard, that the daylight almost seems to make the surrounding nature smell better.
She suspects that it might be a trick of the mind, being that the colors look so vivid in the afternoon sunlight.
These gorgeous colors are on full display as the friends continue on their way through the village.
They pass cottages and houses bordered by emerald-colored hedges, and they walk along roadsides peppered with multicolored trees.
Soon, nature takes center stage as the friends walk upwards and away from the village center.
They travel away from buildings into the countryside on a path bordered by fields and farmland.
This is exactly what the women had longed for when they talked about wanting to reconnect with nature.
Other than the odd farmhouse and a country manor, it's entirely the domain of flora and fauna.
In parts they walk in the shade of soaring trees, which block out the sound of any traffic or people.
Eem is occasionally visible in glimpses through gaps in the treeline on the hills that rise above it.
Elsewhere, the road turns to where the trees are sparsely planted, revealing vast rolling hills at either side.
In one, there are white sheep dotted around the grass, grazing, sleeping, or relaxing in the warmth.
It takes the women about 20 minutes before they arrive at their destination.
Mompesson's well is another piece of Eames' heritage.
A water well named after the famous reverend.
In the 17th century, when the village was quarantined, the townsfolk would bring coins up to the well.
The well is essentially a hole in the ground and Mompesson filled it with vinegar to clean the coins.
The sterilized money would be left in the well for merchants outside the village to come and collect.
This was payment for the much-needed produce that was left on marked rocks for the ailing villagers.
The friends study the historic well through the thin guardrail that surrounds its three sides.
At the back, it's positioned against the drywall, with undulating fields stretching out behind it.
The well is set within a paved square frame, It's a square hole, partly covered by a roof.
Bronze and silver coins glisten beneath its surface, like pieces of treasure hidden in the water.
According to what's written on the nearby information board, people have taken to using it as a wishing well.
And so, the women each take out a coin and stand in silence as they make their secret wishes.
After throwing their coins into the water, they stand arm in arm and pose for a selfie.
They angle the camera to show the well behind them and the lush green hills and blue sky in the background.
Hours later, when they're back at the campsite, they review the picture, along with others that they've taken.
They sit side by side on chairs facing the caravan beside a blazing campfire encircled by stones.
It's only early evening, but the sky looks pitch black, and this makes the fire seem even brighter and more colourful.
Flames of orange gold dance about a mound of wooden logs appearing reddish in places like autumn leaves.
The caravan looks even cozier than before, illuminated as it is in the light of the fire.
Painted gold patterns sparkle like stars on its wooden panels, while the green canvas roof is the color of jade.
The evening air is cooler than it was, but having pulled on their fleecy jackets, the friends barely notice.
They are toasty and warm beside the blazing fire that pops and crackles against the quiet.
Both women are tired, having walked for miles, but they're in good spirits as they look through the photographs.
Amy is delighted by the picture at the well.
Their smiles are radiant and their complexions glowing.
They ponder that it's likely the result of exercise, being outside in nature or maybe getting some sunshine.
Though when they see that they look the same in the photo of them eating dinner inside the pub, They decide it's because they are so happy to be together.
They ate at the pub where they'd chatted to the man who they'd seen writing specials on the chalkboard outside.
He was serving behind the bar when they ordered dinner and gave them such a warm welcome, you'd think they were old friends.
The women dined on good country food made with seasonal vegetables and fresh local produce.
Their meals were warming, hearty and exactly what they needed after the excursion of the day and the return walk still left to do.
Other photographs show nature along their route, including close-ups of autumn leaves and chestnut-colored conkers.
Others showcase the beauty of Eam.
There's a few pictures of the plague house and its lovely garden.
Its pretty flowers and amusing ornaments.
The friends chuckle at pictures of the squirrel watering the garden in his bright yellow trench coat.
There's the Celtic cross in the grassy churchyard and a shot of Amy on a bench in the village green.
There's one of a cottage that was particularly attractive its stone front hidden beneath a blanket of ivy.
The last photograph shows the inside of the caravan, where the friends will shortly retire into comfort.
It's every bit as charming as you might expect, like something you might see in a storybook or fairy tale.
Its horseshoe-shaped ceiling is wallpapered with creamy flowers and latticed with thin beams set evenly across it.
One of these beams displays decorative bunting, a colorful archway above the bed.
The bed takes up the back half of the vardo, It's positioned widthways, with storage cabinets below.
The doors of these cabinets are cream in color and have floral designs painted red at their center.
Cozy wooden benches in the front half of the wagon display the same color scheme of red and cream.
They are opposite one another, adjoining the bed frame sideways, with an array of comfy cushions scattered across them.
A tray of refreshments has been kindly provided and left atop a chest of drawers.
There's tea bags, coffee and sachets of hot chocolate, a large bottle of water and a thermos of cold milk, and also a packet of large marshmallows and a pair of long forks to toast them in the fire.
Seeing this now, both of the friends have the same idea.
Amy brings out the tray, setting it down on the gravel near the fire.
She pours sachets of hot chocolate into porcelain mugs and places the marshmallows atop the forks for toasting.
Meanwhile, Michelle rustles through her backpack, retrieving a portable gas stove and a tall, narrow pan.
Amy pours water into the pan, while her friend fixes the stovetop to the canister.
Once she's sure that the stove is on level ground, Michelle turns the handle that sparks a flame.
It's blue at first, then yellow like the campfire, partly hidden from view once the pan is on top.
Now, the women begin toasting marshmallows, holding long metal forks towards the flames.
The warmth of the fire wraps around them like a blanket, and the sounds of it crackling become louder and more soothing.
It's been such a long time since either of them did this, since they sat around a campfire beneath a star-studded sky to laugh over memories, to share thoughts and feelings, all while turning the forks in their hands.
They watch as the marshmallows begin to change shape, their insides, slowly melting into a creamy goo.
Their white surfaces become charred around the edges, turning a dappled golden brown where they've been toasted.
Once they look ready, the women pull the forks back, though they have to wait a minute for the marshmallows to cool down.
They smile and laugh with the glee of children delighting in the anticipation of what they're about to eat.
The friends fall into silence as they take their first bites.
They savor every mouthful of their delicious treats.
The marshmallows are gooey, almost buttery in texture, with a taste that's reminiscent of caramelized sugar.
It's a flavor that evokes memories and feelings of comfort, which only enriches the moment further.
They repeat the process a few more times before folding the packet closed to be saved for future evenings.
By then the water is boiling in the pan, so Michelle turns off the gas and pours the water into the mugs.
Amy takes a spoon and stirs the drinks, adding a dash of milk to make it cooler and creamier.
And so, the friends relax, sipping hot cocoa and gazing into the flames of their golden campfire.
They remain here until the flames die down and the fire is reduced to ashes and embers.
Having finished their hot drinks, they both feel ready to go inside and watch a movie beneath the covers.
Owls can be heard hooting in the night time as they tidy up their things and head inside.
They go up the steps and lock the front door behind them.
Amy draws the curtains at the front of the wagon.
Michelle has to climb onto the bed to close the other curtains against the wooden back wall.
They are almost comically short, but more than enough for the tiny window, and she has to keep herself low to avoid the curved ceiling.
The quirky surroundings of the Vardo's interior only add to the feelings of coziness within, and even more so once they're under the thick duvet that scrunches as it's moved.
Amy reaches up to a tiny black box that's fixed on the ceiling above their pillows.
She presses the power button and it whirs to life, emitting light from a lens at its front.
Michelle leans forward to where the screen is rolled up and hidden from sight behind a wooden beam.
She unravels the white vinyl until it's fully extended before repositioning herself.
Amy taps away on the screen of her phone, selecting the movie that they've already decided on.
And moments later, the film is projected onto the makeshift cinema screen at the end of the bed.
They've chosen an old classic that they both loved as teenagers, one that they've seen many times over.
Some parts are so familiar that they can recite them line for line.
Sometimes they laugh because they know what's about to happen.
At points they get distracted and end up talking instead of watching, just like they used to do at slumber parties when they were younger.
By the time the credits are rolling, they feel decades younger and about as content as it's possible to be.
And it's with these feelings of peace and contentment that the friends find themselves ready for sleep.
Both can feel themselves beginning to doze, their bodies becoming heavy and sinking into the mattress.
More adventures await them come sunrise tomorrow.
But right now, it's time to rest beneath the cozy, warm bedding.
So, they turn off the lights and say their goodnight's.
They close their eyes and soon drift off to sleep.
Thanks for watching!
Thanks for watching!
Thank you.
Thanks for watching!
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thanks for watching!
Thanks for watching!
