‘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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