Everything is beautiful
Today's snow turned the village into a Bruegel painting. The primary school was closed, as was the local comp. The village fields were full of children, making snowmen, sledging, snowboarding and even skiing. Huge snow balls like the statues from Easter Island littered the hillside. The land echoed to the sound of excited shrieks and laughter. And that was just the adults. 'It's like Hampstead Heath up there,' said Mrs Pelly Sheepwash (but without the lewd goings on). We were tucking into warm pancakes and Nutella in her kitchen after a brisk walk. Mr Grigg, sadly, missed it all after braving the snow early this morning to the train station for a conference in London. It is now a blizzard outside and he has just rung from the Hole in the Wall outside Waterloo about to catch the next train. Let's hope he makes it home safely. I, meanwhile, managed to forgo the delights of the Death Star and soaked up the bluey, pinky air on an early morning walk with the dogs, befor...