Dogs and snow, dogs and snow, dogs and snow

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Title of post to be sung to the tune of 'Here We Go'.  Of course.

I should be writing about freedom of the press, which seems to be today's hot topic. I could do you a little essay about the price we pay for liberty, because nothing comes without a price, although there is some odd magical thinking going on at the moment which seems to imagine that this is not the case. My theory:  if you want a free press, you have to read some things which make your stomach churn. It's the exact same philosophy as freedom of expression: if you really want it, you must put up with people saying things that make you want to throw heavy objects. So really there is not much of an essay there after all, more a haiku. It seems that the answer to the question 'Do you want a free press?' must be 'Yes'. Or, you can go and live in Russia, where journalists get shot with guns.

Turns out I was slightly crosser about that than I thought.

Instead of tangled arguments about liberty and constraint, I am instead going back to my true and tried theme of weather and canines. The snow has come again, and I can't help but be oddly excited. The woods are gloriously still, making me think of Narnia and Mr Tumnus (odd how some of that childhood reading dies so hard), and the dogs are beside themselves with excitement.  There is something about the white stuff that turns them at once into romping puppies instead of stately old ladies. Also, it gives my friend Sophie who lives in Santa Monica a little taste of old Blighty, and she has had a horrid time lately and needs all the cheering up she can get. So these are for Soph, and all of you who occasionally miss a bit of good British weather:

This is a slightly absurd attempt at an artistic shot from under my umbrella. There is an old idea that only vicars are allowed to use umbrellas in the countryside (some crazy class thing) which I very much enjoy subverting:

Lights, camera, ACTION:

Go, go, go:

That's quite enough of that racing about, thank you so very much:

C. S. Lewis magical woods:

And one more dog, because I can't resist:

Whoever said blogging was a massive exercise in self-indulgence? It's practically a public service.