Ice Dream

So far, down here on the Channel Coast, we've been having a pretty mild winter. I mean, look at these two crazy people, splashing around in the Itchen late on a Sunday afternoon in January, as if it were July. Whoever started this "wild swimming" fad (probably Roger Deakin, and his book Waterlog) has a lot to answer for. [1] I think I've counted five mornings so far when there was frost on the lawn, and two when the car windows were iced up. In my memory, my working winter mornings seem to have involved an awful lot more scraping, cold-numbed fingers, and aching arm muscles.

It's a bit sad, really, when a bit of frost on the car first thing in the morning seems like a photo opportunity. I suppose I shouldn't complain, given the problems severe winter weather can bring – you've got to feel for those poor devils in the north-east and Scotland who have lost all power again, following yet another storm –  but a mild winter does make for dull photographs. So here is an image of someone comfortably asleep, dreaming of icier, snowy days.

1. Although the spectacle of  professor Alice Roberts taking to the water in a documentary on the subject did rather compensate, I have to admit.