Monday, 2 February 2009


Too excited to post more at present. I have just offered my services as a walking escort to my mum so she can get to work, since all transport as we know it has picked up its skirts and shrieked at the prospect of moving through snow. I will return with photographs! Or I’ll be out playing working somewhere. Ahem.

I don't think I will seek full-time employment as a walking snow-cab. According to AA Route Planner, I have managed 9.6 miles today, trudging there and back twice through snow. The first time I did it in my trainers, the second time I togged myself up as if I was on the Alps. Out came my snowboarding boots, jacket, fleece, and a little snoody thing pulled up over my ears bought from Sunshine Valley in Banff (oh Canada, how I miss thee in this weather). I looked like a serious snow walker. Either that, or I looked like I was insane.

I love that quiet that descends during a snow-fall. No traffic, no birds, no people passing by - just a soft whomp every so often as snow falls from a tree bough. Children delighted with a day off school coax parents out into the front garden to make fat snowmen. Elderly men grimly shovel the snow off their path, trousers tucked into socks. Teenagers forget the studied attitude they drag around with them and revert to children, giggling and flinging snowballs at each other. The television and radio revert back to old-style importance, family gathering to watch reports of people snowboarding in Brighton, ski-ing down Primrose Hill in London, sledging in York. Cupboards are checked as if preparing for seige conditions, bread and milk are rationed. People acknowledge each other more than usual, and nod as they walk past. I like that most of all.

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