The Fens, while almost utterly flat, carry a certain beauty that gets under your skin. It’s something in the expanses stretching to infinity that at once create calm and mild despair.
There is surely no better time to feel this than when the landscape is covered under a layer of snow, robbing it of any vestiges of life and colour. So naturally, we strapped boots, wrapped scarves and set off across the fields to the village of Toft, taking in Madingley on the way.
The Fens are … flat.
Tracks in the snow.
Shivering in the cold
Signs of civilisation
Some rather nice graffiti
Barbed wire delicately supports the snow.
And, almost at the pub!