The reason? It’s winter! Well I never, who’d have thought it.
I’d love to blame someone else but I can’t, not really. Individuals as well as the authorities get it wrong. In this country, every year again we are shocked that winter inevitably brings snow and ice. When it dawns on us that that is what’s happened, we talk of nothing else; earthquakes? tsunamis? fires caused by horrendous heat waves? Forget them, we are snowbound! Planes are grounded, airports iced up, the railways come to a shuddering halt because signal boxes freeze and a few inches of snow suffocate the road system, including the motorways.
Once again we are well and truly snowed in, the drive is blocked and has become invisible, the car is imprisoned in the garage and neither postman nor delivery vans can get to the house. Every year I plan to get private gritters out to clear the drive and free the courtyard round the house from snow. Then spring comes and I forget. Or how about getting winter tyres for the car, as drivers are obliged to do in Germany. Short of driving a gas guzzling, environment polluting, unnecessary SUV, that would surely solve quite a few transport problems. £500 for a set of winter tyres? That seems a bit steep when you are splashing through deep puddles the rest of the year.
So here we are again, cut off and impatiently awaiting a van load of groceries from the supermarket, a postman’s bag full of pills from the health food suppliers and several parcels of books from amazon uk and amazon de.
Millie has appointments for x-rays and a couple of small operations to remove some unexplained lumps and wartlike protuberances on Tuesday. It would take a miracle to get her to the vets and back again. I am hoping that these lumps are nothing more than common fat lumps and don’t need immediate attention.
Millie and her chums love the snow; what is it with dogs and children and extreme weather? While I trudge behind her with a very bad grace, cautiously probing the ground in front of me with aunt Josephine’s spiked walking stick for holes or icy patches, she races down the bank towards children and dogs shrieking and barking for joy, all in a tumble of sleds and arms and legs, dogs' tails wagging madly and children’s faces glowing with healthy exuberance. The din is heard in the next valley. So far nobody has landed in the river.
Talking of the river, I wonder if that could be used for transport? It’s back in its bed and running freely,