A gentle warning from Christmas past...for those who have office parties to attend.
Back in the 21st century Cotswolds, we have had large amounts of the white stuff dumped on us overnight. Poor Andy somehow managed to get the motorbike to work, forty miles away, but has rung to say he will be staying there overnight and might be lucky to get home tomorrow. The view from the bedroom, looking down our little lane.
Once I knew I'd be on my own for at least one night, I ventured out to the village shop for a few treats. Thankfully the store cupboards are full, so it was just sausage rolls and wine on the shopping list. Here I am looking back up our little lane, where the snow came well over my ankles. Our tiny hovel is near the back, the second porch up behind the parked car - just one bay window and two small windows above it.
Out on the main High Street, a farmer was taking fodder up to his stock - probably sheep, as cattle tend to be undercover in winter.
Further past the big village Green - normally we can see the fields beyond, looking towards Oxford, but not today.
Shopping accomplished, me and the cats are settled for the next 24 hours. There is food, wood, wine and magazines. Three cats have the sofa and Samson, to the left, has prime spot by the storage heater. I have the internet and we all share the woodburner. The snow continues to fall - it is now fifteen inches deep - and all we do is hope that Andy can get home safely tomorrow. Or sometime.
