There's been a fair bit of carving going on down there in the meantime. I love it.
As it often does this time of year, the Trym had dwindled to a trickle. Which makes it almost a winterbourne, which just happens to be one of my favourite words.
Nevertheless, Ted was able to sniff out some water to splash in. Like many border collies, his nose doubles as a dowsing rod.
... and above the cleave, the bronze age chieftain stirred briefly in his tump and started snoring again.