Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine John Clare, The Shepherd’s Calendar – June, 1827 Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment Than such as in their bondage feel content. Lo I confess, I am thy captive I, And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie. Ovid, Amores 1.2, translated by Christopher Marlowe

There was a sharp burning pain in my groin, where my harness was digging in under tension. The ropes were tangled round my body. Above me they stretched in a tight line towards dark rocks. I tried craning my neck to look up but could distinguish no human shapes – just a slender thread attached miraculously to something on the mountain. There was still no sound – just a bleak, grey emptiness. I seemed to be suspended in some

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