It’s cold out there when you go north. Not much snow left, but what’s left is solid. It’s nice to see icicles, and big ones too, even at the road side. All the water on Rannoch Moor looked like you could skate on it, and Loch Leven had big ice patches on it. Nice to see the frost clinging on all day with little effort.
It all kinda takes me back to the winters where we’d enjoy an increasingly fast slide in the playground before it thawed over the weekend without constant polishing by small-sized feet or the janitor got to it with a bucket of salt. Where we’d go out to play in the snow, get soaked through and not feel the cold.
Aye, all this gear is rubbish. What we need are woolly mitts and balaclavas knitted my mums and grannies.