All of Mow Hill is white and fluffy. What’s been going on? A downfall of our downfall, that’s what. I had to cancel our StringFing practice. The slippy slidy snowy drifts gave me no choice. Ain’t it pretty, though? he asked from the haven of his big comfy chair by the radiator in his writing corner.
Actually, this particular radiator is not all that efficient and my toes are bloody freezing. So thanks natural forces for the pretty pretty snow, but it can go away now. I want the roads clear for our gig at the Coachmakers tomorrow night.
I have a poetry competition to judge and a load of marking to do for uni. The cancelled rehearsal has given me time to start doing it. Oh joy.
The photo is StringFing at the Coachmakers last year. Last year . . . Doesn’t time whizz along? It only seems like a couple or four weeks ago.
Don’t forget to feed the little bird doods. They’re struggling.