The boss and I stood and watched this freezing fog approach across the Fen slowly enveloping fields, dykes and drains in its icy grip, in fact the temperature never climbed out of the minus zone all day, it just sank lower and lower.
Ten minutes before these two photographs were taken the sun was shining and it was a sparkling frosty morning, although the roads were treacherous with black ice.
In Fenland it pays to take your time in these conditions and travel safely, about two hundred yards away from where we stood is a marker post at the side of the Sixteen Foot with two sad bouquets of withered flowers fastened to it with cable ties. A cautionary warning, there's around eight feet of water at the very edge.
There were no pike fishermen anywhere to be seen on the drain, not in the entire nine miles where road and drain run together.
Obviously a duvet day.
