THE WHITE STUFF

Beware the ice of March.  Not something Julius Caesar had to bother with as there was probably little chance of snow in Rome back then but nevertheless, a misquoted warning not to be taken lightly.

Today’s a ‘Snow Day’, the grown up equivalent of a school closure due to inclement weather (teachers fearing litigation day).  It’s a day spent in PJs snacking on salt and vinegar crisps (according to the media - crisps can kill you, rot your teeth or something bad happens after a packet of Walkers; I forget which one).  Playing outside in the snow is not on my agenda as I can see icicles from where I type.  Surely this means I should crawl back into bed with a good book and forget I couldn’t make it into work today due to no buses?

6.30 am - view from bedroom

Icicles on the window frame

A few hours snuggled under my cosy duck down duvet should help me forget the epic 5 hour adventure of getting home from work last night.  Three hours stuck on a bus from Poole that resembled a public transport cork wedged solidly in a bottleneck of stationary traffic across the Poobo conurbation.  Hats off to our bus driver who kept his cool and a chirpy outlook in spite of the screaming child, whinging passengers and icy roads.

After the second hour parked up in a queue of traffic a mile long, it was clear nobody was going home anytime soon.  In the end, impatience won out so I got off the bus and trudged home through the icy mush from the LV roundabout back to Charminster, stopping for a toilet break and neat Southern Comfort on the way.  Luckily I’d thought to put on full thermal long johns under my office attire otherwise I might have sacrificed both legs to frostbite.  Brrrr!

Getting home last night

And so as the world grinds to a halt under a blizzardy coating of the white stuff, I’ve got a date with Netflix and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps.

McTwitters - closed due to adverse weather

Alfresco dining at the Snowy Cafe

Back garden thick with the white stuff

My poor little olive tree