A White Mane

This morning we met our friends up at the golf club and we attempted to walk the route I had plotted out yesterday, which proved to be not quite as straightforward as I thought.  Lockdown seems to have thrown up a few curveballs in that new paths have been created by walkers keen to break out of the usual routes.

After a few missed turns and retracing our steps we eventually made it up to the dizzy heights of the Twinwoods aerodrome where Glenn Miller was last seen on his fateful journey across the channel.  

I've added a couple of extras.  One of an oak tree looking towards the Thurleigh wind tunnel, and another of Twinwood farm, which was the childhood home of my aunt's second husband.

The pony in my main picture just about covers the topic of light (being the mane), as it has been another dreary day.

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