WW 1st February 2012

Safely tucked away, almost forgotten about, sometimes wonder why you bought it, at all, because, it just never is, quite the right weather, but then, perhaps only once a year, the right day comes, cold and dry, so you can wear it, and traipse over the frozen mud, snug and smug, all nice and cozy, on a star filled night, up past Stephen's Grave, and on, into the wind, round the end of the wall, hunker down for a cup of tea, and on to Great Combe Tor, over the river and back, to a very quiet pub, where we wet Ellis Donald's head.