Waiting with Winter Walks

This is the beginning. Of a new year. Not only in the calender sense. On we move.

But first is this wait. I am striving to be good at waiting. Good things come to those who wait says my Grandmother. Rather smugly (can I say irritatingly about an elder?).

And so we walk and walk and the time goes by. A house to value and sell takes longer than the conversation one initially has about it. I realise. I watch the pony crunching up our organic carrots and dripping slithers on our boots (there goes our dinner, good job there are lentils in the cupboard and a slab of bloody meat dripping away it's ice). Our walks seem to end constantly with this fat black/chocolate shetland pony. I view it with a watchful eye: soon this pony will be in our stories only; can you remember little Blackie?

Felix and myself, with Blackie behind the camera.

Felix and his favourite horse, I call him Dwarf. The horse that is.