Well not really. Chat Moss, I felt, wanted to be discovered once more, if through the murky blanket that sat outside the house.

Visibility was, I admit, less than sharp but it added an atmospheric feel to anything noted, with a pied wagtail looking even greyer as it seemed to ponder what to do next. It and a couple of others had just escaped the talons of a male sparrowhawk. A pheasant just trundled blithely onward, far too big to be troubled by the raptor. A meadow pipit or two came in and out of view, as they skated about the ice picking up food from its surface and, as for me, well it was time I wandered up to Little Woolden Moss Reserve.

There was little to slow my steps as I moved along to the reserve save for a moorhen which was finding food somehow, as a blackbird simply looked on.

The steppe-like landscape of the LWT Nature Reserve was, as expected, being held within the grasp of winter, a sight to behold all this beauty nurtured by this charitable organisation whose efforts once more to bring beauty into our lives have been blighted by yet more vandalism. The five-bar gates to the eastern entrance of this place of beauty having been stolen. How this charity is expected to sustain this constant negativity and cost I’ll never know?

It was then homeward steps in the fog, which hid my, perhaps less positive, mood after this encounter, with the activities of a few people who seem content to add negativity to our lovely world, which in these times need the positivity the LWT offer.