The Curling Pond.

We went for another walk today; I found it painfully slow where-as I would normally have difficulty keeping up with Herself. I fear there is some work to be done to bring her back to full fitness. We went up to the curling pond, not that there is much pond left; but then again, we don’t have the weather for outdoor curing these days. I like to see a three week cold spell before I give the bees their winter medicine, but that doesn’t look likely to happen this year so I'll just give it to them this month and, if we do eventually have a cold snap, they can have a second dose then.
 
There are photographs around, taken from this very spot (near enough) with a dozen curlers playing and the stone hut used for storing equipment in full view; it is hiding behind the far trees, both them and the nearer ones did not exist back then.
 
Talk of warmer winters set us reminiscing about the old days when I used to arrive home from school soaking wet from the knees down. My route to the bus stop took me past the “Lord Mayor’s Duck Pond,” a large crescent shaped ornamental pond (with fountains) outside the Bristol Council House. It was too much of a temptation for a young lad to resist when it was covered with ice – which wasn’t always thick enough to bear my weight.