I'll race you to half-term

Barely have we recovered from the long Christmas holiday and snow days

 but it is half-term, already.

Time for the cross-country race.

It's a tradition; and the accretion of years is such

 that even the Headmaster can't recall

why February

 is the traditional season

to don your shorts

and race around the frozen fields.

Double-click on the pictures

better to see the tiny racing figures

and the flock of sheep.

Do you suppose those sheep

look up from their munching

and wonder, idly,

what the fuss is about?

 Might they get the notion

to join in?

And now, we run around the lake

girls in green,

and boys in red.

Unlike the runners,

the bystanders are all bundled up.

Wellies, tweed, a hat and most of all

a dog

are de rigieur.

The perfect examplar

of English country style.

The last bit is all up-hill

and it separates

the sprinters from the stragglers.

You do get a boost from the crowd, though.

It's all over now . . .

except for the jelly doughnut, the hot chocolate

the warm bath

and two loads of sports kit in the wash.