A gentle confinement

On the one hand it’s just a bit of snow, and the BBC last night certainly went into apocalyptic overdrive with tales of The Great Freeze, on the other hand there is a sense of being gently confined.

Only a handful of cars managed the hill that is the only exit out of our estate yesterday, and my local train station made the national news as an evacuation point for rail passengers whose journey wasn’t going to continue.

My more distant neighbours, some of whom I talked to today for the first time today, say the shelves of the Tesco Metro have been stripped, and tomorrow is the third day A’s primary school will be closed.

Even he is getting a little bored by the extra holiday. It came so soon after the Christmas break he only returned to school for one day, and unfortunately I’m perfectly equipped to continue working from home (as I do most of the week).

So, it’s only a bit of snow. But we are not a people well prepared for even moderately challenging weather. We are a people who talk endlessly about the weather, despite there usually being only different shades of inclement to comment on, and we are no strangers to differentiating between spitting with rain and light drizzle.

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