Christmas eve walk

The thing I miss about the country is not having to make a journey before taking a walk. I was brought up on the edge of a hamlet. For a walk I could go through the gate at the top of the garden then down the track to the fields, or over the "gate" at the bottom of the garden, down the bank, across the boggy bit and then over the fields to Malpas. A short walk through the village and it was the path by the river to Tresillian or, at low tide, a scramble through some woods and then along the river edge to Malpas.

Yesterday I went for a walk round Hollow Ponds, and it took half an hour walk to get there, half an hour to walk back and less than half an hour to walk round in the middle. And it poured with rain on the way home!

It looks remote, but I could hear the traffic along the Whipps Cross Road.

The results of recent heavy rain were everywhere.

And I love the old trees with twisted roots or branches. The remind me of the forest described at the beginning of the Czech folk tale "Higgedly Piggedly Man, which I told at the annual "Carols and Pies" at work this year.