Into the frosty fields Scarfed a fast bowl of porridge, then strapped myself into my walking boots. Anton called for me, and we went by train to Hassocks station, spotting rust-coloured foxes against the frosty fields as the train passed. From Hassocks we walked south and then east along lanes and across fields following the line of the Downs for our first, if rather gentle, walk of the new year. It was a cold day for Sussex: puddles and little ponds and streams were glassy with ice, and the horses in the fields were wearing coats. Anton and I were warm enough as long as we kept moving: ambling along the route of an old Roman road and chatting about lots of random things from the Beatles to the Romans to bean based recipes as we went. After a couple of hours we reached a little village called Streat, which had an idyllic churchyard, with eccentric gravestones splotched with lichen. A splendid place to stop for a feed, looking out from the church across the weald to the line of Downs. A...