“I’m scared,” said Mum.

“It’s only a hill. How can you be scared?” I responded.

“It’s a very steep hill and I’m scared,” Mum insisted.

“Just think of it as the route to longevity,” I laughed, giving my mother a gentle push in the small of her back.

“Use it or lose it,” my sister Mary agreed (she was on the other side of Mum, holding her hand).

“No pain, no gain,” I chimed in.

“Is it ever going to end?” our mother rolled her eyes Heavenwards and made a sound like a cluck.

“It’s not far to the top and it’s worth the effort,” said Mary, “there’s a pretty little woodcutter’s cottage at the top and crocuses beyond that – you’ll love it!”

Earlier, the morning sunshine had beckoned us to go out for an excursion and we had decided to visit the village of Cockington – an oasis of countryside nestled between Torquay and Paignton – in the hope that the camellias, crocuses and snowdrops would be out. It’s so pretty there in the spring and summer.

“Look over there at the crocuses!” exclaimed Mary gleefully as she pointed at a few small clumps of yellow and purple in the distance.

“I can’t see them,” Mum shrugged and tutted.

“We’ve come a few weeks too early,” I admitted, “but the camellias should be lovely… hopefully!”

Some people with dogs and children passed by and Mary and I stopped for a bit of dog chat.

“You’re doing well,” said a lady, seeing that our mother had just walked up the steep hill.

Mum smiled – or was it a grimace?

“Good for longevity,” I said. (Mum was still catching her breath and clucking.)

At last we started the walk down to the lakes where the camellias, rhododendrons and azaleas grow in profusion… in early spring, not winter.

“Look,” said Mary, finding a camellia shrub with a few sparse white flowers.

“I can’t see!” Mum replied with a definite lack of enthusiasm.

Some more dogs appeared, and people with children; then more dog and children people. As we walked down the hill more and more people with dogs and children greeted us on their way back from the lakes, and Mary and I enthused greatly over the cuteness of the dogs.

“More dogs!” Mum said rather sarcastically as we passed under a bridge and saw three more groups of dog people walking towards us.

“It’s hard luck for Mum that her daughters have both become dog-people!” my sister grinned at me.

At the bottom of the hill we plumped for the middle, and slightly less muddy, path to the lakes.

“I suppose we’ll have to come back the way we came… up the hill,” Mum bemoaned.

“No, I think this track will take us down to the road at the bottom,” I said optimistically.

“Is that an azalea in that tree over there?” Mary pointed.

“Oh yes,” I agreed.

“I can’t see,” our mother pointed out yet again.

Towards the end of the muddy path Mary and I had a few moments of dismay as we discovered that our way was barred with a sign and tape (perhaps there had been a landslide); we could either have gone back up the hill (oh no!) or we could take the wooden steps leading up to the higher path that comes out by the road.

“Let’s take the steps,” I suggested.

Mary’s look told me that she would pull if I would assist from the bottom with a push. And so it was that Mum made it up the huge steps at the bottom of the path…

“These ones are better,” said Mary cheerily reaching half-way, “at least there is a handrail.”

“Bravo!” said a lady as Mum climbed onto the top path.

“Not bad for a ninety-three year old,” our mother managed a smile of satisfaction.

Then, owing to the tortuous one-way system, Mum walked with us all the way back along the road to the car park. Well, we do like to keep our mother going. After all, exercise is the key to longevity.