New Year's Day is a foolish time to froust — it might become a habit — so, having recovered from discovering the strange cephalopod carved into what was purportedly the Maize Maze behind a children's play area in Fulbourn, I planned a route through Cherry Hinton to Fulbourn, Balsham and Little Abington, and thence to the Gog Magog Hills, where various people were flying kites.
Some inconsiderate deity had added a number of hills between Fulbourn and Balsham — I suppose in retrospect that the name 'Gog Magog Hills' might have provided a hint — so this was rather more energetic than I'd expected. Flying a tame and well-behaved kite is surprisingly meditative; you stare up at this little square in the sky, and tug one hand to turn it one way, the other to turn it the other. With the wind as it was on Monday, the tame kite sits of its own accord, mildly exercising your shoulders.
Some people had brought rather wilder kites: click on the photo below for more pictures, and for the flock of geese which it is moderately alarming to find in the road after a blind corner descending a steep hill.
