All Is Quiet
People who know me well are still reeling in shock at this morning's news. "Dom Haughton - habitually and noisily heavy sleeper until he crawls out of bed at the last possible moment and hauls himself downstairs to drink tea in front of the television all morning seen outdoors before 8am," the headline might have screeched if I were anyone of interest to the general public.
More surprised than anyone by my efforts this morning was myself. I sleep like a log - especially after staying up late to watch "Withnail and I" with a bottle of 10 year old Jura on New Year's Eve before finally retiring not long before 2am. Usually this would result in a lengthy unbroken period of sleep. It doesn't help that Ali is even worse than me - in fact she was still in bed when I returned from this morning's adventure.
The thing is, it had snowed yesterday evening as I returned from my final outing of 2020 at Gwithian, and to everyone's amazement it had settled. Forgive me for getting so excited if you live in hardier climes, but you'll have to indulge me this once. Snow just doesn't happen in our mild West Cornwall climate that often, and when it does, it's often gone within hours. But a dry cold night suggested that winter's magical touch might still be around at the start of the morning, so I hardheartedly set the alarm, assuming that I wouldn't actually get out of bed five hours after climbing into it.
Mornings are great though - I can't deny it, despite eternally cursing people who are habitually lively during these hours. There's a certain sense of smugness in being at large when most people are either in bed or at the breakfast table in their jimjams - I need to learn to get better at this. As I staggered through Scorrier Woods, the path deep in mud and my right eye weeping and refusing to open properly due to the ungodly hour, I watched the pink sky, convinced I wasn't going to arrive at my chosen spot in time for sunrise. And so it proved to be, although the low cloud saved me and helped to produce a beautiful diffused light over the Poldice Valley down towards Bissoe.
And then I stood and watched. I felt the warmth of the weak winter sun and listened to the birdsong all around me. As I walked home through the woods it seemed as if it were raining as the snow on the trees began to melt and fall all around me, yet for the first time in recent adventures it was a dry day.
Who knows what will follow, but in this little corner of the world, 2021 has got away to a wonderfully memorable start. And there's still a weekend ahead before I have to return to work. Happy New Year; Happy Friday!
All Is Quiet
People who know me well are still reeling in shock at this morning's news. "Dom Haughton - habitually and noisily heavy sleeper until he crawls out of bed at the last possible moment and hauls himself downstairs to drink tea in front of the television all morning seen outdoors before 8am," the headline might have screeched if I were anyone of interest to the general public.
More surprised than anyone by my efforts this morning was myself. I sleep like a log - especially after staying up late to watch "Withnail and I" with a bottle of 10 year old Jura on New Year's Eve before finally retiring not long before 2am. Usually this would result in a lengthy unbroken period of sleep. It doesn't help that Ali is even worse than me - in fact she was still in bed when I returned from this morning's adventure.
The thing is, it had snowed yesterday evening as I returned from my final outing of 2020 at Gwithian, and to everyone's amazement it had settled. Forgive me for getting so excited if you live in hardier climes, but you'll have to indulge me this once. Snow just doesn't happen in our mild West Cornwall climate that often, and when it does, it's often gone within hours. But a dry cold night suggested that winter's magical touch might still be around at the start of the morning, so I hardheartedly set the alarm, assuming that I wouldn't actually get out of bed five hours after climbing into it.
Mornings are great though - I can't deny it, despite eternally cursing people who are habitually lively during these hours. There's a certain sense of smugness in being at large when most people are either in bed or at the breakfast table in their jimjams - I need to learn to get better at this. As I staggered through Scorrier Woods, the path deep in mud and my right eye weeping and refusing to open properly due to the ungodly hour, I watched the pink sky, convinced I wasn't going to arrive at my chosen spot in time for sunrise. And so it proved to be, although the low cloud saved me and helped to produce a beautiful diffused light over the Poldice Valley down towards Bissoe.
And then I stood and watched. I felt the warmth of the weak winter sun and listened to the birdsong all around me. As I walked home through the woods it seemed as if it were raining as the snow on the trees began to melt and fall all around me, yet for the first time in recent adventures it was a dry day.
Who knows what will follow, but in this little corner of the world, 2021 has got away to a wonderfully memorable start. And there's still a weekend ahead before I have to return to work. Happy New Year; Happy Friday!