The consecutive hard frosts have produced some painterly frozen puddles but upon looking at this photograph a little later on we spotted a curious thing.
There it is at the bottom right, a strange and huge paw print. Horror upon horrors it's as big as my hand; to paraphrase Sir Arthur Conan Doyle 'the paw print of a huge hound'.
Now at the time of writing it's the full moon and we all know what that means... I am definitely not walking the dogs in the orchards after dark.
Ah well, time for a pint at 'The Slaughtered Lamb' and you can be sure that I'll stay on the road.
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