Nooo!! Not more Snooow!

It is now officially Spring. Snow feels so wrong and yet they've forecast more snow for Leicester UK.

BUT Did you know that:

• It often snows in March [So why are we all so surprised when it happens?]

• The heaviest recorded snowfall in London was in 1695. It snowed every day for 5 weeks and didn't clear until mid-April. [No repeats this year, please!]

• Eskimos do NOT have 100 different words for snow. [Why would anyone need that many words?]

• Chionophobia is a fear of snow. [Oh no! I think I'm suffering from that!]

Do you draw the curtains and curl up in front of the fire when it snows?

Or are you out in the garden building a monster snowman?

Beware of the Cold

A friend tells of a skiing holiday he had many years ago when he was in his 30s. The sun was shining and he didn’t see the need for his hat. He set off with his friends and all was well until he inexplicably felt the need to sit down in the snow. Fortunately his friends recognised this as the beginnings of hypothermia and cajoled/supported him back to the hotel.

We all laughed at the anecdote and I thought nothing more about it until last week. Our boiler broke at the start of one of the coldest weekends we’ve experienced in a long time. British Gas couldn’t send anyone out for two days [We pay monthly into their Service Plan too. Outrageous, isn't it!] and so we were left to cope. It was miserable but at least we had a gas fire to huddle around.

The snow fell continuously. The temperature dropped to -5. Every surface of our old, drafty house froze beneath my fingers. After 24 hours I felt strangely detached. I didn’t want any lunch. I didn’t want to move out of my chair. I didn’t want to do anything. I thought about old people living alone. How easy it would be to continue doing nothing, to allow the cold to enter my bones, to slip into a chilly sleep. Fortunately for me, Mr A was there to cajole and so, with hands that wouldn’t quite co-ordinate and oats tumbling to the floor, I made myself a bowl of porridge.

It was only a brief incident but I can’t stop thinking about the detachment and the way my hands couldn’t open an ordinary packet of oats. It was scary and so if our heating fails again [and I do hope it won’t] I’ll try and do something active [or book into a hotel!] while I await those elusive British Gas people because you don’t have to be old to suffer from hypothermia.

I decided to include a photo of today's view from my writing den. It may be pretty but it's also cold and inconvenient. Roll on summer!

Was this the last train out of London?

It was going to be a bit of an outing… well not much of one to be honest, but two days of tests for Rod at the National Amyloidosis Centre, at London's Royal Free Hospital was as good as it gets these days. It was the first time Rod had been out since his stem cell transplant four months ago and so, if nothing else, we were planning to include a bit of window shopping in the new, shiny St Pancras Train Station on the way home. 

Fortunately the consultation at the end of Rod’s two-day test marathon was good. He is progressing as well as can be expected. The statistics show that the stem cells have just about done what they were meant to do. All we need now is for him to get stronger and put on a bit of weight which will, the consultant assured us, happen all in good time. 

There were light flurries of snow as we shivered our way from the hospital but at St Pancras 'cancelled' signs screamed at us from the departure boards. This was no time for window shopping. We joined the mass of panicky travellers and wedged ourselves onto what, according to the information displayed, was the only train heading to the East Midlands. It was going to Sheffield to be precise, with Leicester as its first stop. 

The journey was beautiful, white fields lit by dazzling sunshine, but by the time we reached Leicester it was snowing and as we alighted from the train we heard the announcer breaking the news to the remaining travellers. The train was no longer going to Sheffield but would terminate at Derby. We’re home now, heating on full blast, cuddling hot mugs of tea, but I keep wondering what happened to all those people who thought they were on their way to Sheffield.