Bitter

We set out for our walk this morning, all done up against a bitter, biting, face-stinging wind.  Battling against the icy wind, we were to be seen heads down, hands in pockets, all hatted and scarfed as snow and hail showers did their best to persuade us to turn around and head for home. We persevered however and were rewarded once more, by the sight of the drifts of snowdrops on Shipley Hill.

As I crouched among the nodding flowers trying to ignore the numbing of my fingers, Malcolm was to be seen in the distance enjoying the view from the more shoe-friendly footpath.

They really are looking at their best right now (the snowdrops, not Malcolm - who never looks his best in the bitter cold).

As we reached the Derby Lodge, the gardens there were looking pretty good too. Not bad for such a bitterly cold morning.