Proper snow at last yesterday: snowball snow, snowman snow, Playdoh snow. It covered our local park like the cotton wool stuff the BBC use for shooting Christmas specials on location in May.
And as it was the polite sort of snow that melts fast on tarmac but not grass, the roads were OK, not icy at all, and whizzing around London on a bike was a delight. Even cycling across the park was enjoyable.
Ooh, everyone said, you're intrepid, and I said yes, well, Shackleton and me, we're quite similar, him with Elephant Island me with Elephant and Castle. Mind, Shackleton wouldn't have liked the roadworks on Waterloo Bridge. Sod it, he'd have said, we'll row back to South Georgia. It's safer that way.
That is funny. But have you lost a cache of whisky in the snow?
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