February seems to bring a lot of snow. Allegedly, when I was born, the streets were knee high with snow for two weeks. I thought I was born in Edgware, North West London, but my parents paint a picture akin to the Arctic.
We've had a lot of snow in the last 36 hours. Sunday night saw the first flakes before we woke up to a sea of white.
Being Britain, the country was closed was all of Monday. Not a single London bus ran for yesterday's rush hour, 1 in 5 people took the day off work, tubes were down for the morning and thousands of schools were closed.
God bless Britain.
That meant I had the day off too. In my defence, I did get up at my normal time, showered, got ready then looked out of the window and thought that there was no way my car was leaving the end of my street, let alone getting up the hill beyond.
So, after a flurry (geddit!) of phone calls, official confirmation came through that if it was too dangerous to get into school, don't come. Later that day, we were told not to bother coming in today either. I'm not complaining.
I spent yesterday building a snowman with my dad and brother. Three grown men rolling huge spheres of snow up the street wasn't something I thought I'd see when I woke up that morning. The result was well worth it.
Luckily, we live well off the main road so any young rapscallions looking to kung-fu kick the newest addition to the family will be hard pressed to find him.
Right, time for a cuppa. Phil and Fearne are genius on This Morning. I wish I could cackle like Phil...sigh.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
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