Mid afternoon and a weak sun has driven off the fog.
Armed with the Christmas present secateurs (you can never have too many) I get myself outside and attack the tangled white wisteria which covers the side of the house that faces west. I'm sheltered from the cold east wind.
An iceberg floats on top of the water butt and a fluffed up robin chats to me from the washing line. He's waiting for me to finish so he can drop down and hunt for grubs in the disturbed dried leaves.
By the time I'm done, I'm hot and satisfied. A tidy wisteria in winter is a thing of beauty.
S. A. D. Moi?