I wake to a White World.
The gardens, back and front, are covered in a snowy blanket. My small world looks very, very
beautiful this morning.
The Youngest of the Darling Daughters messages me, ordering me to stay indoors in the warm. I am reminded of myself, many years ago, issuing
the same order to my own dear Mum after finding out that she was insisting on going out in deep snow to feed the birds. Which reminds me - I must feed the birds! I think I may be turning into my mother…
Sue, who was booked to pay an early morning visit to shear our wayward locks, messages to say there’s no way she is prepared to be the first person to venture down her hilly road as a result of which Mr B and I will
have to stay hairy for a little longer. I feel cross with myself for not messaging her before she messaged me, if you know what I mean, thereby demonstrating Proper Concern for Another’s Health and Safety.
The really rather wonderful Claire, who treats Mr B to his weekly pamper session at Guild Care, phones to say that they are advising everyone to stay home today and not to venture out. She promises that she will allow Mr B
an even longer soak than usual next week to make up for missing out today. I report back to Mr B, who says he was going to suggest we cancelled this week anyway. He and Claire are obviously an example of Great Minds Thinking Alike.
With our virtual drawbridge well and truly drawn up, Mr B and I have a good chat about Snowy Times We Have Known, starting with the winter of 1963 when the snow drifts were so bad
down in Kent where we both lived at the time that he was unable to return to Hertford where he was working out his print apprenticeship. For my part, I remember that my cousin June was unable to return home after a visit, so allowing my sister and me another
welcome week of her company. This was before Mr B and I met each other, so it was interesting to think we were both marooned by the weather in the same town at the same time.
Then there was the snow in the early 1980s which prevented Mr B from driving home after a night’s work and me from driving to work. We both took trains instead (though travelling in opposite directions) and I remember crossing the footbridge over
the railway line and, looking over at the station platform, spotting him below me. At the same moment, he looked up and the broadest of grins spread over his face. I can still see it now, in my mind’s eye. As a couple, we are not famed for our romantic
moments (we met outside Woolworths for heaven’s sake) but you could say our eyes met, not across a crowded room, but across a snowy railway track. You don’t get more romantic than that. Do you?
Granddaughter Katie sends a photo of the snow in their back garden, deep and crisp and even. Have we had snow? she wants to know. I send her a photo of our sunny, snowy back garden, a beautifully atmospheric picture, only
slightly spoiled by the fact that you can see my thumb blotting out part of the snow-laden bird table. Katie’s mother, the Eldest of the Darling Daughters, says she just wants the snow to go. The Middle of the Darling Daughters says the snow hasn’t
reached them yet and asks, hopefully, if anyone wants to build a snowman?
I wonder what I will wake up to tomorrow?
Life is SO exciting, sometimes….