Welcome to my perfumed garden

We spent the day twittering with Chorley (bloody) council yesterday - we and many others - demanding to know when they were going to grit our village to which the answer was -we're not. Withnell and Brinscall lie high in the hills, you've got to go uphill (or down, as the case may be) in any direction to get in and out and, since Thurlstone is likewise ice and snow bound (despite the ploughs and gritters who arrived in force yesterday), I guess we're going nowhere.

It makes no sense to leave a warm and cosy house and risk life and limb on motorways and Pennine roads to get to an ice box of a cottage that it'll take us 3 days to warm up (and no idea how much wood and coal is left and I doubt very much if deliveries will make it up our hill anymore than we will).

So, like the man on tthe Guinness ad, we wait. I'm only mildly worried about our house, we're well lagged so not anticipating burst pipes, I have parcels arriving - they can be collected but Oh Dear God I want to be home in my own space!!!

Mark's just set off to walk to Penistone. He spent 2 hours yesterday trying to dig us out  - with the rest of the street, there's quite the wartime spirit in the village. :o) - with little success; despite the snow ploughs and rampant gritting yesterday, it's the ice that's the problem, rather than the snow. I'm not sure what he'll find up there, the shops have been emptying steadily with panic-buying and scant deliveries (we got on Look North because of it! ::does excited little shimmy:: - well, no, not really. Look North does not excitement make.) - on Wednesday they were rationing us to a loaf a head. Thank goodness for my sister's bulk buying tendencies and leftover Christmas alcohol.

I myself am going nowhere. I seem to have developed an inner-ear problem with mild dizzyness; went arse-over-tit twice yesterday so no snowy trekking for me. Oh dear. What a shame. Never mind.


Mr Stub does not like this weather



Hamish likes it even less..