A head for heights.

Just a field away was a tree surgeon cutting down an old beauty.
It's a shame to see them removed, but this one may have been diseased.
My Nan used to say that it looked like a funeral , when a lorry, loaded with
timber passed through our village. I've never forgotten that and Nan died,
in 1961. Funny what you remember.
  Having a log burner, I can't be too sentimental !
What a hard way to earn a living.