👉 Okay, let’s tackle that wonderfully prickly little hyphen of a word - "grey-capped." Now, I wouldn't normally throw around such a delightfully specific descriptor unless you were describing, say, the very last bits of mould on a forgotten cheddar, frankly. But here's what we mean.
Basically, "grey-capped, in the most wonderfully dramatic sense, refers to a topographical detail – specifically, the very tops of some particularly stubborn, low-lying hills and outcrops that have been perpetually dusted with…well…grey stuff. It isn’t a pretty grey like a distinguished gentleman's suit. This is a lived-in grey. Think of it as the geological equivalent of an ageing badger: it has seen years of drizzle, the occasional snow flurry, and probably held several very grumpy sheep in its craggy embrace. You won't find a jaunty flagpole on these guys; they just sit there, stubbornly, resolutely, and with that certain…grey-capped demeanour. Essentially, you look down upon this grey capping and think, "You know what? I wouldn’t piss on those things if I was an awfully wet vicar." 10/10 geology. --- Here's my unsettling sentence, which, frankly, is just a little bit of the right sort of weird: The scarecrow at the edge of the field wasn't stuffed with straw anymore; he simply
