The frost on the ground is no deterrent, nor is the biting cold. The shoes that I wear, and my thermal underwear are adequate defence against the winter cold. It is the warmth of my bed and frost on the window pane that pull me back.

But once I have dragged my unwilling flesh out on to the cold road, things change. I cannot wait to walk, and the mild music from my CD player plays soft encouragement into my ears.

I am not the only one to brave the cold. There are several other human beings and some canines that go walking in my estate while it is still very dark. Sometimes we greet each other.

In the earlier days, the dogs evinced much curiosity about me, and had to be restrained by sharp commands from their owners, and the leash. But no longer. A 'good morning' from me to the dog's owner or vice-versa, seems to calm the canines. They generally ignore me, nowadays - the dogs, I mean. But I am, I must confess, scared of the dogs, and do not throw caution to the winds.

In that half hour in the morning, I have the liberty to dream. I have the audacity too, to ignore the second hand and the minute hand on my watch - the chronometer chases me with a vengeance throughout the rest of the day, I have to admit. My car keys and my mobile phone have been left behind. I am alone, secure in the silence, monarch of all I survey, and master of my thoughts.

There are some others I pass by on my morning walk. Sometimes a small girl delivering newspapers passes me by on her cycle. Then, there is the milkman with an extended cycle. Clad in a high visibility jacket, he never greets me. He is already at work, and his cares might have overtaken him.

There are others, trudging to the railway station to catch the train to work. Several cars drive past, their drivers driving to work at far way destinations. Early to work, certainly, but does the modern world allow them to go early to bed?

In these days of Christmas cheer, I see several houses decorated with festive lights.

Before it became so cold, I used to see snails crawling from one patch of grass to another, across the small width of the footpath. I took particular care to avoid stamping them under my feet. But to many of them, death came from other means - hungry little birds, some black, some grey, breakfasted on them. What a price to pay - to be eaten while out to eat, in spite of kindness in one part of the world.

The half hour of freedom comes to an end as I turn into the avenue where my house is situated. I cannot help feeling that my watch has cheated me, though I know that it is time that has flown, the watch was still only running. The day breaks, and I can see the frost on my car window. Need to defrost before I can drive.

Else, I would be later than usual for work.