There was a strange phenomenon at Dover harbour this morning - small mists of water vapour blown lightly by zephyrs of cold air across the warmer water. So that's how clouds are made.
The air was still and cold inland, leaving a beautiful hoar frost.
After a tough morning's work fighting spreadsheets, the sunshine tempted me to Folkestone, where the clarity of light was stunning. Why isn't the summer this bright and colourful, with aquamarine sea and skies when we can lie and enjoy them?
Not a ripple from Calais to Dungeness, but in the middle of the bay, miles out, was a raft of Scoter - I counted 61, with at least one Velvet Scoter among them (13th from the right, or maybe it's an Eider?). You have to work hard for year-ticks around here.