The road goes ever on

There was just a touch of frost this morning. The mists and sunrise were a little disappointing. But at least I found my first waxwings of the year, gorging on yew berries amongst the redwings and fieldfares, drawing my attention with their high-pitched trilling contact calls.

But this was on the Halforth Marshes, with the solitary oak that always looks so good in its winter twigginess and that rare thing in this part of the world - a ploughed field.

The foul weather that we were warned off hasn't reached this far north yet. It meant that C was able to drive home from Yorkshire in reasonable weather. The fire was lit, the cat was on the mat, and Strictly was on the TV. A good homecoming.