At the front gate a spiders web covered in hoar frost stops me in my tracks. The frost coating must be ten times the diameter of the web. Talk about strength.
Out along the old Roman road. This is not a day for dawdling. Sophie puts her head down and proceeds at a 'determined' pace. Me thinks the ground must be cold underfoot.
The little things continue regardless. The hyacinths didn't bloom for Christmas. They're starting to show signs of life now. Better late than never.
Angus still tries to read two books a week. A history of what happened to the monks, nuns and friars after Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries is an insight into a life style change that was abrupt and irreversible.
The Rickety Old Farmhouse reveals its treasures slowly. The second best sporran is found in a drawer where it was placed for safe keeping eight years ago. One of those places that was deemed so obvious that it couldn't possibly be lost.