Posted by Tania Kindersley.
The hill was lost in white sky today:
But the gloomy old dreich had a mournful loveliness of its own:
There were signs of life:
(Those are my little fruit trees, with their hopeful buds.)
And there were of course the ladyships:
That was just outside in the melting snow, but don't they look as if they have been posed in the grand Parisian studio of some diva photographer, with light meters and those mad silver umbrellas to reflect the flash?
Going to eat some good old bloody Aberdeen Angus beef now, for strength. Too much chatting always takes it out of me, and if there is one thing that happens at Christmas, it is chatting. After a while, I have to go and sit very, very still in a darkened room. Luckily, at the moment I have Test Match Special to keep me company, and there is nothing more restful than the soothing tones of Aggers and his merry men making naughty jokes about Ricky Ponting, and the tap tap tap of Jonathan Trott's bat as he slowly and methodically works his way to 141 not out.