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Well, I wasn’t wrong about the snow and ice. We knew it immediately on waking – as what little road traffic passes here at that time in the morning was making its way much more gingerly than usual, tyres crunching instead of swishing. Black ice on the roads and footpaths is lethal. The planned feet-resting-day looked set to be confirmed, of necessity.
But UK weather is nothing if not unpredictable. As the day lightened and brightened, the roads, at least, began to thaw, and the kind of golden light that brings photographers here from all over the world began to paint the landscape again. By early evening I walked with my coat opened, almost too warm, the Pennine ridge in the distance clearly deep-snow covered whilst the near landscape luxuriated in ever-changing colours of day. All this AND hot coffee and lasagne after sunset. ‘Twas a good day.