Let it snow...

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The Beast from the East is fast becoming the Beast with the Least if you happen to live in the Home Counties.  

Everyone I spoke to yesterday had moved on from the anticipated closed schools, the days off work due to blocked roads and not needing an excuse to drink hot chocolate and brandy all day, and were merely suggesting that thicker socks might be enough to get through the Arctic blast.  I know that there are some of you lovely readers who will be experiencing the snow at its worst, but down here, the snow we do have isn't even enough to fashion a pair of snowman's snowballs, and the dreams of sledging and disruption are disappearing as quickly as the sprinkling on my lawn.

But boy it's cold.  Walking with my great friend Mrs P and her Rottweiler Neville yesterday afternoon, I admitted to wearing a pair of leggings under my jeans.  This was fine because she also had layered up in the leg region.  What I didn't divulge was the two pairs of drawers (my derriere always feels the cold) a thermal top and two pairs of socks I also had on.  It was just as well there were no stiles we had to negotiate as bending at the knee was an issue for both of us, and there was some minor goosestepping on the way back.  

Walking down one of the wider paths, we came across a large fire, burning a lot of hedge clippings with a farm hand supervising.  If he hadn't have been there, I might have been tempted to point my derriere towards it and thaw it out for the rest of the walk. But he was young, and easily frightened, and at the tender age of 18, I don't think he would have appreciated two middle aged ladies warming their behinds while he poked the fire with a stick...

Anyway, part of me is still hoping that we might see some snow by the end of the week.

Ever the optimist...


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