
Why when you have an enforced snow week, do you feel less inclined to get down to writing than when you’re rushing around like a blue-arsed fly with absolutely no time to spare? Discuss.
This is the drift I fell into earlier – it wasn’t as much fun as it sounds. We’ve had a week of heavy snow, and now it’s started again. No-one is out gritting or clearing the majority of the roads, except for the hardy locals, and I’ve seen very little on the News – plenty about the south of England suffering though because they have frost (FROST! I ask you), and that there might be a sprout shortage (God forbid).
Tesco won’t deliver, and the local shops are running out… I give it 2 days then I’m holing up in the woods with a commando survival tent, a big gun and a deer carcass. You’re either with me or against me.
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