Why, oh why are the roads so bendy? Why do they have other cars on them?

In the morning, the mountain, that bloody mountain, the one I don't like very much, the one that follows me around like a millstone - only bigger - was possibly about as beautiful as it could ever be. Covered in snow, sparkling in the pale sunlight and shrouded in a wispy shawl of clouds. I almost forgave it there and then for plaguing me so.
And it just so happens, that I would have been close enough to get a reasonable picture of all this, but - there is always a but - I was driving, and the roads, of course, were bendy and slightly slippery and everyone seemed to be in a horrible rush to get somewhere and so I couldn't stop. Meh. The best, absolute best view, of course, would have been from the middle of a roundabout that just happens to be at the top of a hill... More meh...

Meh-ing merrily to myself - or not - I continued down the road, which becomes very bendy at this point, only to see a buzzard. A honey buzzard. Closer than I have ever seen a honey buzzard before. On the ground, at the side of the road. So close I wondered whether or not it was injured. But of course, being on a bend, with a line of cars behind me and several lorries coming up the other way, I couldn't stop. More meh.

All I have, therefore, is yet another sunrise from the bus stop at 7.30...
Blame the bends in the road.

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