Friday November 25, 2005
The snow arrived on schedule, just enough for a light dusting, with flurries throughout the early morning sufficient to give that delicious feeling of being inside a snow globe. While the quantity was minimal, it was good quality snow, properly frozen rather than the nasty slushy kind that feels so horrid on the skin. When I donned hat and coat to take the trash out to the bins I came back indoors all flushed and happy.
“What’s it like?” Graham asked.
“Great! Wanna come out and build a snowman?”
“You’re no fun, do you know that?”
“Not when it comes to getting cold and wet without good cause I’m not.”
“Some would say the fun is sufficient cause.”
Later on in the morning, when it was clear that the snow flurries had finished and that a slight thaw was setting in I got tired of sitting at the window looking out.
“I really, really need a bit of air,” I announced. “Think I’ll pop over to Spilsby and get some nice crusty bread to have with our salad for lunch.”
“Wrap up warm, then, and be very careful.”
I took his advice and it was good advice, too. The roads, salted overnight, were completely clear and safe, but there was a wicked wind breezing along the High Street when I got out of the car. The pavements were mostly clear, too, and I was able to walk over to Somerfields without risking antics of the slippery kind.
There was plenty of bread left on the shelf so I grabbed a couple of french-bake batons, intending to stuff them with a little cheese and a lot of salad stuff.
“You’re looking cheerful,” said the young woman at the checkout.
“Sure am. It’s great out there. If you have the right attitude to snow.”
“That’s the way to do it.”
“Ah well. It’s being so cheerful as keeps me going.”
She didn’t get the reference, of course. Not many people would unless they’re old enough, and have retained the right attitude to snow.