vicarage vista

My morning wakeyupsie trundle on the frosted fields and iced up roads took me down to there and back again, then along Vicarage Lane past the big rusty cow feeder thing. Thankfully there was no barbed wire sticking out in the grabby places of the fence keeping the grass verges out of the crop fields, so my camera-operatabley thin gloves stayed intact and I didn't get my shins twotted by the umpteen chelsea tractors that came skidding over the sub-zero'd cow pats that splotted the road.

Trust my boots to find the only bluddy one that was still warm though.