‘I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes.’ - Ralph Waldo Emerson—1860



With a few minor exceptions, (my pronunciation of certain words, and tendency to slip into an Australian accent from time to time for example,) I am, without a doubt, your perfect representation of a typical English Gal.



I drink Tea in a crisis, (though I suspect Vodka would probably be more suitable.) I use irony, tongue-in-cheek and sarcasm to avoid having to directly say what I truly mean and I was born with every lyric in every Madness song already etched in my mind.



But I think the real tell-tale sign of my heart and soul belonging to Blighty is my irrational, and slightly odd obsession with the weather.



You see we English cannot conduct a conversation without a mention, no matter how brief, of the current climate conditions. It’s the Law in England.



Perhaps it’s because the weather here, in our part of the world, is one of the few elements in our lives that is ever-changing and so unpredictable? I don’t know. And right now I haven’t time to analyse. Because currently, at this very moment, as I type furiously, (my nails, irrelevantly, due a manicure,) I find myself in the midst of what can only be described as, a (‘Dun, Dun, Duuuurrrrrnnn’) MET OFFICE EMERGENCY.



There I was, stretched out on the couch, cosy and warm, my toes in my slipper-boots, my head on Jay’s lap when suddenly, my world was turned upside down by a news flash on the telly. I shot up in an instant, fearing the worst, and the upside-down-ness was corrected just in time for the announcement to be made.



A very important-looking lady, in very expensive lipstick, told us, in a very official tone that and I quote, ‘a warning has been issued.’



Snow is coming.



For some it has already arrived, though for us, here in the East Midlands, only a light, fluffy blanket of the white-stuff can be seen. Yet that is all set to change, according to the Weather Man. Yup. Over-night our pad is expected to be transported to the Antarctic.



Up to 40 cms of snow could greet us in the morning, if the weather reports are precise. I cannot claim to be fully aware of exactly how much 40 cms is, of course, as I was taught the metrics system by a boy, but it does sound a lot, quite impressive really, if it wasn’t such a crisis.



‘The trouble with the UK is that we’re never prepared for anything,’ we exclaim to one another, ‘When it’s hot we fall to pieces, when it’s freezing we fall to pieces.’ We tut. ‘The only country to be at a stand-still just because of the weather!’ We shake our heads, united in our disbelief that the Government have yet to find a solution to sufficiently deal with the British Weather. But it’s true. We run outta grit for our roads. Our trains derail, lorries crash, airports close. And all because fluffy, pretty cold stuff has fallen from the sky. And you’d think by now we’d figure out how to handle it.



I can’t really talk though. Cos I’m not prepared either. I was supposed to go food shopping tonight. Other than a couple of selection boxes and some dry-roasted peanuts left over from Crimbo, our kitchen cupboards are in a bit of a sorry state at the mo. Of course had I known it was coming, the snow, I would have hot-footed it to town this evening to stock up on tinned goods and toilet roll, torches and sleeping bags, candles and gas canisters and er, all the other stuff you need when a Warning is Issued.



Alas by the time I got wind of the Issued Warning it was too late. All the shops were shut. Only the 24hour Tesco’s in Wellingborough is open at this time of night and Jay won’t let me drive there was we have a headlight that’s out on our car. (Of course the Police will have more important issues to contend with, since we are in the midst of a MET OFFICE EMERGENCY, yet I cannot be bothered to argue with him.) He says we can go to the shop and stock up in the morning, of course he’s wrong. When the snow comes we won’t be able to get out of our drive, let alone into town.  Silly Man. I’ve made a mental note, to reserve this rare error of judgement for use in all future arguments between my husband and I ;-)



We could be snowed in here for weeks. Who knows? I’m wondering if I was a little too hasty in switching off the news in order to check the house for supplies now. But the weather man had lost my attention. He started going on about the ‘science behind the snow-fall’ and by that point I had already been whipped into a dramatic frenzy and was far too concerned with the survival kit to attempt to understand the scientific stuff. If I’d been a little more attentive the weatherman might have offered an estimation on how long this snow crisis might last?



Still must be very grateful for abundance of tea-bags and sugar in the pots at the very least. Lol ;-)



No business like snow business ;-)



Enjoy and take care!



Steph x x x
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When I was at school, the subject of Science appeared on my timetable merely to bridge the gap between the subjects that I, personally, found more stimulating. Like Drama and Lunchtime. Three times a week I was provided with the perfect period in which to smoke fags in the woods and re-do my make-up and thus my entire scientific knowledge could probably be written on the back of a shopping receipt.




Yes I know that H20 is the periodic code for water, (and J2O must, therefore be the code for juice, lol) and I know that gravity is the force to blame for the sagging of various body parts in the latter stages of life. I also know a little about genetics.




My knowledge of the human anatomy came directly from the problem pages of J17 and More magazine and I have never, ever dissected a frog, or any other animal for that matter.




Science bored the pants off of me and I wasn't about to waste what little time I did spend behind the school gates being bored. Perhaps if I could turn the clocks back I would have concentrated a little more, smoked a little less and saved some dosh on foundation and mascara, but then again perhaps if I'd have concentrated a little more I wouldn't be quite so open to non-scientific theories on life in general.




Astrology, alternative therapies and the paranormal are far more likely to gage my interest. I'm not really religious but I'd sooner buy into the story of Adam, Eve and the Snake than I would details of The Big Bang and Evolution. (Not just because I love a good old romance and a bit of nudity, I hasten to add,) I'm ashamed to admit that I am not intellectual enough to grasp the basics of evolution – I've always wondered, for example, if we evolved from monkeys, how come monkeys still exist? Surely they should be humans too? Or did only a percentage of monkeys evolve and the rest simply remained monkeys? You see? I am absolutely hopelessly clueless.




I particularly, whilst I'm on the subject, loathe Science Fiction as a form of entertainment. The entire concept of fusing Science, which by definition is based on fact, with fiction born from the minds of geeky teenaged boys, just doesn't do it for me. I think the two should be separated completely. Either we believe the men in the white coats or we take the imaginative route instead, thank you very much. (I don't mean to offend anyone here by the way, I've never actually seen Star Wars, but I've heard it is quite good and I know that Princess Leia was very beautiful with a fabulous hair-do!)




What I do love is the Supernatural. Not the programme, (which Jay watches religiously, I'm not a fan, though do tune in for the Sam and Dean deliciousness) but the idea of ghosts and angels and life after death never ceases to amaze me.




I am a firm believer in the existence of 'something else,' - not just because of my own, 'magic powers,' (which I won't tell you about for fear you'll think I'm even nuttier then you ever thought before,) but because I cannot comprehend the idea of one coming to the end of their lives and dying into absolute nothingness. (Ooooh I was half expecting a red squiggly line there but apparently 'nothingness' is actually a word.)




Without getting deep and meaningless and starting the 'life – what's it all about' age-old debate, (which one should only ever indulge in after taking drugs or drinking lots anyway, because otherwise it is too complicated a subject for the poor human brain to take on,) – I do have my own little theory and that is that I believe life is all about learning. You live, you love and you learn and when you die your soul carries the traits and the knowledge you've gained from one life, right on to the next. It's reincarnation, but not as we know it ;-)




I also believe that we have the ability to tune into other zones and thus that we can indeed communicate with those no longer living in the 'zone' we're in right now.




Some communicate with the powers of mind, some use ouigi boards, some go to spiritualists church's or mediums, some ring those ridiculously expensive telephone numbers in the back of magazines. But me? I use the powers of the almighty baby monitor . . .




Our house is old, (don't ask me how old, I haven't a clue,) it's a cottage built from stone and decorated by a blind person with very little patience, (I assume? Though that's pretty irrelevant anyway) – and very often one can feel the strange sensation of a kind of 'presence' in the place.




Some strange things have happened, objects have been moved. (I once came down the stairs to find the telly was tilted and facing a wall . . .) and then I went with my pal Tasha to a spiritualist church and guess what they told me? They said my house was haunted.




To be more precise they said that the spirit of a small child might just be lurking around the joint. A week later Jay found some peculiar old toys in our loft. (The little hairs on my arms are now standing to attention, how's yours?!)




So this was months and months ago and although a few eerie things have happened since, none quite so eerie as the episode the other night.




My hubby and I were laying in bed at about 3am, when the lights on our baby monitor suddenly flashed red, detecting movement in our sons bedroom. These lights were accompanied, not so strangely, by the sound of a baby crying. I wouldn't have batted a sleepy eye lid if it wasn't for the fact that our baby was at that moment in time laying in his fathers arms.




We've since heard a number of peculiar noises coming from Leo's baby monitor. The sound of a small child singing, (whilst my other small child was sound asleep,) - the hushed voices of adults talking, Country and Western music, you name it, it's been bought to directly to our bedroom via the monitor.




The simple explanation of course is that our monitor is simply picking up the signal from somebody else in the area, which is totally plausible as many a fresh baby has been born in the village and at least one of the families must have a monitor like ours, yet at 4 in the morning there is something a little scary about hearing a man who isn't my husband chatting away in my room. Lol

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