As I got up this morning I sensed the cold, despite a thick duvet and a warmly sleeping cat.

And sure enough, the grass was white as God’s beard in a children’s prayer book. Our pond was frozen, the sheep and chicken drinkers solid.

And as I drove back from dropping Angela at the station, I came across this scene. The cattle, immense and solid and patient, looking through the biting-cold iron gate, the icing-white field behind.

Winter is really here now, whatever the official line may be about it starting on December 21st. I’ve never understood how that can be right – surely that’s mid-winter’s day?