Whilst rummaging in her store room, Andrea had stumbled across a pair of very rare and very expensive Muckboot waders. It had been ages since she had taken these out for a bit of fun, and today was a perfect opportunity.

It was cold and wet and blustery, with low clouds shrouding the hills and the rain blowing sideways in gusts. Wearing a two-piece Gore-tex hunting suit over Lycra leggings and shirt, and with neoprene socks on her feet, she pushed into the boots and pulled the wader shafts up over her legs before buckling them securely to the belt around her waist.

Striding out over the moorland, the visibility worsened until she was completely alone in what most people would describe as a foreboding landscape of howling wind, driving rain, gushing streams and deep muddy bogs. All in all, it was just perfect, she thought. As she splashed across the first boggy pool, she felt like she was playing a game of dare daring the water to trickle over the tops of her waders, but this was a game of dare that she won, because although it was deep, she stayed dry.

The next pool was a more formidable dare. Within a few steps of the bank the water was already at the brims of her waders. But waders are for getting in wet in, or so Andrea always says, and so she pushed forwards until she felt the water cascading down her legs inside her waders. For the first 20 seconds she remained completely dry the tight neoprene lined wellies gripping the legs of her waterproof trousers. But the water was relentless in its assault, it filled her waders to the tops, increasing the pressure in her boots, and then slowly made its way up her trouser legs to her knees before starting to run down inside her waterproof socks. It was breathtakingly cold!

Lying back in a reedbed in six inches of water, she felt her back getting wet inside her jacket, and a little rivulet of water was running down inside the back of her trousers. She waded back to where she'd entered the pond and by the time she stopped to take off her waterproof trousers, she was soaked up to her breasts. She removed her waterproof trousers, pulled the waders back on, and waded back into the pond. With nothing now to keep her legs warm she was going to have to be quick, so she zipped-up her jacket and lay back in the water. Floating and swimming amidst the low cloud was a surreal experience. As she walked back downhill, the gushing stream on her left was just too much temptation, so she dropped into the water and walked with it downhill, sliding into the waist deep pools along the way. In the last of the pools she sat back under the torrent of water, which bounced off her hood in a huge plume of spray. Tired, cold and ready for home she paused to admire the view a 270 degree panorama of fields, rolling hills and mountains, with low cloud clinging to hillsides and the summits. She was so pleased to have her head in the clouds.