Saturday, 18 December 2010

“Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

In that case, Oscar, I won't mention the fact that last night it was minus 10 and more snow, and worse, ice, of the black AND the white varieties.

Neither will I mention that I walked to the yard today across frozen fields to see to the horses, and that now there is a BLIZZARD. Blizzards are two a penny at the North Pole, probably, but in BUXTED...?

But it is lovely. Really lovely to be safe inside and contemplating making a batch of mince pies and some mulled wine. Except Peter said that will give him indigestion so I said 'Bah humbug!'

I love my neighbour. She of Mango Crisis fame. Ninety years old, Scots and feisty. She phoned this morning when I'd just struggled in, Ernest Shackleton-like from the storm.

Me: "Do you need anything? Can we help?"

Constance: "I can't LIVE without The Daily Telegraph..."

I am just going outside and may be some time.