The Right Sort of Snow


And once more we return to the perennial subject of the British weather.  It’s like a standard filler for a slow news day; it’s something to say while you’re thinking of something else to say that might prove more interesting.

But! today the weather is quite interesting in itself; for not only has it snowed (yes, snow is general all over England) but it is quite positively the Right sort of snow; the sort you can make snowballs and snowmen out of, the sort that engages children of all ages in blizzardly activity in parks and gardens.  On Sunday when the snow first fell I decided to make a snow car.  In my head it looked like a perfectly-formed snow-child of Bertie: in real life it looked like a misshapen heap of white.  But all was not lost: along came a child who helped me to improve it.  Sadly I ran over Bertie’s snow-child while taking Bertie for his yearly check-up (he needs a couple of new tyres but apart from that he’s perfectly healthy) and I can report that out there it is not only freezing, it is Failing to Thaw.  Normally when we have snow it doesn’t last; if it freezes overnight it thaws during the day (thus causing more problems since the remaining slush refreezes and becomes treacherous) but this time it’s staying.  If anything it seems colder now than it was this morning when I literally had to unfreeze Bertie’s doors with a hairdryer, letting down the extension lead from upstairs like Rapunzel’s hair.

The roads were not too bad, considering, but I can’t see anything thawing out today.  Even in the sun it’s completely arctic.

Have I thought of anything more interesting to say?  Nope, we’re stuck with it.

Oh, and in case you’re not in the UK and don’t instantly recognise the reference, the title refers to a British Rail announcement years ago that a train was cancelled because of ‘the wrong sort of snow.’  They don’t make announcements like that any more…

Kirk out


Snow was general all over Ireland

… one of the more readable sentences of James Joyce, who pulled off the unfeasible act of being a genius and totally unreadable at the same time.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pulled “Finnegan’s Wake” off the shelf and attempted to get into it: I only ploughed through “Ulysses” because I had to for my degree.  But “The Dead” – “The Dead” is another matter.  If you haven’t read these stories, do so immediately.

I write this because we have snow.  Snow which can be called snow: snow which covers things and makes them white; snow which is threatening to cancel buses, which may mean I don’t get to see Peter and Andy after all.  It has yet to be determined whether this snow is the Right or the Wrong sort of snow.  I’ll keep you posted.

Off to the library today.  It’s all over between me and Brummie, a Guardian crossword compiler to whose head I definitely do not have access.  Unable to solve a Rufus one yesterday – I’m beginning to think that Araucaria and I may be soul mates after all.

Phone call from Steve last night who has seen Avatar 3D (apparently the most expensive 3D film ever made – but aren’t they all?) and who, I think, said it wasn’t good but he enjoyed it.  Something like that.

I’m not looking forward to going to the library today – it will be cold.  I have enjoyed my Christmas break and am feeling quite relaxed.

Enjoy the snow – keep warm and eat plenty of fluids – or is that druids?  Apparently some people have been snowed in at a pub in the Derbyshire Dales for several days.  Tragic.  I used to dream of being snowed in at a pub in Derbyshire.  Or anywhere really.

Kirk out.

Kirkdale out.

The wrong sort of snow

Haven’t heard this phrase so far although it’s been snowing on and off in England for 24 hours, which is tantamount to a National Crisis.  Not too bad though as it is dry, powdery snow, which is definitely the Right Sort of Snow.  Pretty.  Not frozen.  Nice.

Be good to go up to the chalet at the weekend and toboggan.  Or something.  Tried to go swimming today – both pools were shut.

Now have all our Xmas shopping.  Visiting Mark’s mum today, his Dad tomorrow.

Stung by an email from Peter claiming that I “never” read to the bottom of his emails.  Unjust!  That happened once!  Normally I always finish the