Our Christmas walk

Listened to my programme in the deep, thick dark of our bed with Luna snoring beside us then got up as the light filtered weakly in through the curtains. Andy and I went for a lovely walk across the river, snapping over icy puddles and listening to the roar of water. As we neared the railway line both dogs stopped and held back, nervous and alert to a strange noise coming from a pool which had formed from the sheer volume of rain. A vortex had formed, bubbling and burping down a land-drain beneath the field, the water rushing so fiercely to get down beneath the earth that it looked like a giant plughole.
On the way back on the embankment we saw a tell-tale flash of a white rump of a young male roe deer, his body perfectly disguised, but not from the dogs who strained and whined as they saw him weave around the leafless trees. We stood still and watched him dart about, obviously seeking higher ground because the river was so treacherously swollen, and then eventually he jumped effortlessly away and was off.