‘Tha looks a reet bugga in that ’at, Paul,’ a neighbour commented in his best Yorkshire accent as he saw me setting off on my stroll. ‘At least it keeps my ears warm,’ I replied rather pathetically and defensively. (Anyway, that girlie umbrella he was carrying didn’t do him any favours either, I thought to myself far too late for it to be a witty riposte.) I’ve not had the chance to capture much on camera for my personal diary/blog recently, apart from these trees which took my fancy as the sun dropped low in the west. There’s no doubt about the direction of the prevailing wind which passes through this part of Ribblesdale is there? A friend told me recently that her young granddaughter asked whether trees ever got lonely. Children are wonderful thinkers aren’t they – that is until adults start mucking up their minds.