The crochet toppers are gone from the railings on St Helen Wharf, but there was some snow this morning. It was already crisp by the time I trod on it, and so probably fell earlier in the night. It lay thinly along the pavement rather than on the road.

Birds flew over, hopeful of food, at the Wilsham Road feeding area. The brightest patch of sky was south of east. The sun always rises somewhere in the east, but the point shifts through the year, from well south of east in winter to well north of east in summer.