Barbaryball, just east of Launceston, where I stayed in the spring. I'd wanted to have a go at painting them for ages. And the barn, with its composite of different stone and cob. Finally got round to it last week.
Christmas day is a good day for heading out, if you're spending it on your own. I heard a deep cronking in the morning, and dashed up onto the roof in time to watch a raven swoop past and bob along in an exuberant sort of way downwind and out of sight, a little touch of wildness over the city. They do enjoy windy days. So do I, though the Moggy was a bit lively on the Severn Bridge, suddenly yawing wildly as we passed to leeward of the towers...
By the time I had passed Usk, patches of sunshine were starting to appear on the Blorenge, and the day became one of squalls and sun. And of wind, roaring like a river in spate through the mountain trees.
Journey's end was Partrishow, in the Black Mountains.