Solitary Pleasures

I had half-planned a long walk this morning, after seeing off the Boxing Day Hunt from the clock tower. I took Basil Brush with me (a toy I found for 50p at a car boot sale at Hay School) and there was a child in the crowd wearing a hat in the shape of a fox's head.
I go for the horses, rather than the hunting, though I was surprised to learn, from the speech made by the lady leading the hunt this year, that the hunting legislation forbidding them from killing foxes has been in force for ten years now. "We're still here," said the lady, adding that they would be hunting within the law, which they want to be repealed. (but if they're still here after ten years, and still charging around the countryside with the hounds and the horses, what's the big problem with the legislation? They obviously didn't need to catch anything to continue doing it.)
They haven't had the best of weather, anyway - it's been far too drizzly for me to venture out from my warm fireside.
Yesterday, though, had some lovely sunshine between the showers. I went down to the Warren, where a vivid rainbow was showing just across the river. I went paddling in the Wye in my wellies along the shingle beach and on the way along the river bank I came across a flock of long tailed tits. Simple and solitary pleasures, but it all made me feel ridiculously happy.
I hope readers of this blog have had a similarly happy Christmas.