Spent most of the day in a head-cold fug. Or it might have been last night’s strictly medicinal Laphroaig whisky. If experience is anything to go by, my head will be much clearer tomorrow, but I’ll have developed an irritating cough that will drag on far longer than is reasonable.
Another bitterly cold afternoon walk around the lanes. Scarves and woolly hats order of the day. But, again, lovely occasional bright patches.
“…wonderful. Science and history and geography and evolution and culture all tangled up in musings while walking about the moors around Hebden Bridge.”—PZ Myers
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