No sign of land

Before I started blipping, a frosty Sunday morning offered the opportunity for reading the papers in front of a roaring log fire.

Nowadays I'm more likely to be out in the garden in my PJs photographing a kids toy on the frosted trampoline cover.

It's a worry.

As is the fact that nobody in the house now deems this kind of behaviour to be odd.

Now, off to get my place in front of that fire.