THE FIELD FROM THE ARCHIVES
THE snow has gone. How soon we tire of it. And now, when old men of the countryside talk to me of the hard winters of ’95 and ’77 and ’63, I will remind them of that remarkable fantastic frost of 1940. Not far from Cleobury Mortimer, Shropshire, several young men walked on the River Rea for almost a mile; another young man cycled after them, going under bridges as if they were little tunnels. I myself crossed the frozen Rea in many places.
There were beautiful sights but some sad scenes, and ill-luck for the hill farmers. Recently I heard that four hill ponies were found on Titterstone
