The canal was frozen over again this morning – lightly, just enough to really cheese off the resident swans once more. Cardinal Wolsey was not impressed, and spent much of the morning sending up smoke signals. Mostly steam, I would posit.
I rather like this image of him in the early-morning light.
As you can see, we’ve got neighbours, although rather more of them this time. Most of the stove flues were sending up Morse Code messages in their turn.
There’s a fog descended now – meteorological, not just cranial. I suspect that things outdoors will once again be somewhat chilly.
A fair portion of today has been spent uploaded some thirty fresh images to the Hutson Fine Art America shop thingy. I have discovered that while the printed stuff is indeed produced in England when necessary, some of the items such as mugs and wotnot, are not. You can still order them, but there are the usual concomitant fusses of someone in the U.S.of.A. posting something across the pond. I have added some… variety.
An abstract or two…
I call this one The Angry Blue Cow.
An unashamedly fairy’d-up landscape or two, for those for whom the originals are not cheerful enough…
…and one of yesterday’s ‘Ye gods, it’s cold but I am walking anyway’ photos…
…which is wot as wintery bucolic as it gets and there we’re back to abstract Angry Blue Cows, aren’t we.
If you ask me, all cows are angry.
It’s probably because they’re cold.
I have just about become inured to the sound of ice scrapping and scraping on the Cardinal’s nice fresh hull blacking as folk hurry past in their ice-breakers. Just about.
It always – generally always – sounds far worse than it is.
Mind you, so do I.
Ian H., & Cardinal W., lost in Time and Space and Meaning and, tonight, in Dickensian Fog.