It has stopped snowing! Hurrah! Having said that the temperature is still -4. But not to worry. They predict a cold week and then after that who knows? We could have a mini heat wave? I may have to abandon The Sleeping Field and start pushing seeds into compost faster than a squirrel hoarding his nuts! Talking of which …
Yesterday we decided to pop off in the morning and see Richard’s mum, Betty, she, after whom the dear rot-box that is Richard’s Land Rover is named. I prefer to take the motorway. Richard prefers to take the cross-country, scenic route. I prefer the shortest point between A and B. Richard prefers to go around the houses – usually getting lost on the way. So I was a little surprised as we turned right off the drive and headed for the M1. It was totally clear and no incidents occurred.
When we left Betty’s house Richard headed back towards the M1 and I flicked through a magazine that his mum had given to me. When I looked up we were heading towards the country. I remarked sharply, ‘Where’s the motorway!’
He mumbled, ‘Thought we’d go back cross-country.’
‘You idiot!’ I spat. ‘If we get stuck in a snow drift don’t expect me to be impressed. And you can bloody well get us out of it!’
Silence ensued but I could almost hear Richards ‘chuffness’ at the fact that the lanes were quite passable. And then it happened. We suddenly came up behind a snow plough. Richard stopped the car and his vibe changed. I said nothing. He pulled around the plough which appeared stuck in the snow and from that point onwards it was like something out of Ice Station Zebra. The wind had whisked the snow into twelve-foot drifts with just the narrowest of tracks leading through them. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. With the drifts towering above us, Richard, with his nose pressed hard to the screen and me contemplating calling a taxi and leaving Richard with the car, we crept on.
Eventually we came out the other side and Richard, who was looking quite pink and slightly guilty said, ‘That was fun wasn’t it?’
Actually, and I would rather die than admit this to him but it was fun. And beautiful. Totally and utterly beautiful. Nature at its prettiest. And our little VW UP coped beautifully with not a slip or a skid at any point. Eat your heart out Betsy you old heap of tin!
My new garden shed arrives today!! Yippee! Unfortunately you can’t see the garden for the snow so I fear it will have to wait for the thaw before we can begin construction of said article. Oh well, Rome wasn’t built in a day so I guess there is no shame in not building a shed in one day either?
… Oh hold the sodding horses! Richard has just received a call from the ‘shed people.’ They can’t get through the snow so it is going to have to be tomorrow now! Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Who are these people? WE ploughed through snow drifts in a tiny VW UP – they have a truck! Where is the Dunkirk spirit? That’s what I want to know? This only happens in Britain. You do know that don’t you? Pathetic! A mere sprinkling of snow and the country grinds to a halt. Oh well, I learnt a long time ago not to beat myself up regarding things which are out of my control.
I’m clock watching. I can’t wait for 1.30 when Richard goes to work. I NEED to work on my novel but simply can’t with him on the premises.
‘How do you set the video?’ ‘Do you know where my thermal socks are?’ ‘What do you think I should take to work for my tea/supper/snack?’
I don’t know and I don’t care. Just bugger off to work and let me get on with my book. I’m a good mind to tell him that I need the car this afternoon and make him go to work on his ‘pizza delivery’ moped. Lets see if he decides to go ‘cross country’ on that! I may even go out there into the snow, find a shovel and attach it to the back of the moped for him!
But of course, I won’t. I shall just have to turn off my brain for a few hours and hope that I can find the enthusiasm to write after he has gone to work. It’s tough though because I’m a morning person and I write best in the mornings. Oh well, it appears you can’t have everything – neither peaceful writing time or a garden shed.
I shall have to go and find his bloody thermal socks now. It’s way too much to expect him to find them. Maybe I need to label his sock drawer, ‘Sock Drawer.’ Perhaps then the clue will be in the labelling and he can find his own socks?
Take care my lovelies x
PS A huge welcome to those of you who have recently started following this blog. Lovely to meet you and please feel free to comment/share -whatever.
PPS I also wanted to say that any comment which gets delivered to my spam box gets deleted whether it looks cool or not. And I will always delete comments that may be hurtful or inconsiderate to others who read this blog. That, to date, has not been necessary because my readers are lovely, sensitive human beings.