I recently wrote about a shooting day on which the fog cleared. Now I’ll write about one on which it didn’t. On the first occasion I had left home in total murk but, by the time I had covered 10 miles down the M3 towards Basingstoke, a beautiful, frost-laden day had opened up all around. This time, on a keenly anticipated day in Wiltshire, the reverse held true. At Walton-on-Thames, all was sweetness and light. Ten miles down the M3 a cloying darkness had begun to set in.
Our Wiltshire shoot is 600ft above sea level, a height at which you have every right to expect low-lying fog to relent. As my companion and I groped our way down the motorway, we reasoned that once we turned off