'Who knows what weather is on way!'
Just when you think it’s all over, the ‘Hysteria from Siberia’ pays us all another visit.
Her indoors had me shovelling snow off the drive at some un-Godley hour of a Sunday morning, the drive had to be cleared for the girls’ cars, and while I was at it, I did the pavement outside Levy towers, thus saving the council’s hard pressed workforce the job.
Looking up the lane, other like-minded residents were doing the same, and so this little bit of England has a goodly yardage of pavement, snow and slush-free, hardy muffled up passers-by were chuffed to bits, and even thought it was biting cold, and blowing a gale, hellos and cheerful smiles were exchanged.
We knew it was coming, the weather elves got it spot on, and the amount, three to four inches, and with the wind behind it, on opening the back door, it had piled up to two feet high, the garden had snow dunes undulating from one end to the other, making it awkward to get to the bird feeders.
The poor little mites fluttered in for their morning scoff, to find the feeders covered in flaky sunshine, and while they retreated to the trees and bushes, I endeavoured to clear them, and top them up, and the water bowls.
We seemed to have coped infinitely better this time around, no slipping and sliding cars, hardly any blue lights flashing by, and well wrapped-up pedestrians stepping along at a hardy pace.
Looking at the rolling news on TV, it seemed that the far north and south west bore the brunt of the Beast from the East’s little sister. Phoning a friend in north Somerset, he tells me they had a few snow flurries, but nothing to worry about.
It looks like we got off lightly, and hopefully, that’s the last of it for this year, that is until the next time, and knowing our luck, sometime in May or June, after all, this is England, land of the predictable unknown.