The smaller Peppa Pig wellies contain the feet of four-year-old Joshua. The larger wellies were a late Christmas present to myself and meant that we were able to go on a decent New Year’s Day walk together up the River Dee on the Welsh side heading towards Chester. Walking with your son does not spread Covid in the way that sledging might in the world of mad Mark Drakeford, our dear leader here in Wales.
The Mrs could not join us as one entrance to the meadow was flooded and the other, a kissing gate, would not allow her, with the baby in a papoose, to squeeze through. So it was the men of the house that wandered in the cold. The river Dee was to our right and big floods to our left with the edges of the water turned to ice. A narrow strip of muddy land allowed us passage.
It was a New Year’s resolution to try and do a walk every day as, I must admit, it was a bit of a squeeze for me getting through the kissing gate and my 34-mile Woodlarks walk is now just six months away. I think the Mrs could walk with us if we cross the bridge and head towards Chester on the side of the English infidels. The only danger of this is that Drakeford’s Rozzers might just arrest us on the way back across the Bridge. Stranger things are happening here in Wales.
