After the snow came the rain. It seemed as if the sky was constantly dropping something on us. Everything was wet. Everything was muddy. Walking was a chore, to be got over with as soon as possible with the least amount of getting wet. Easter was fast approaching but nothing felt very springlike. Miles were travelled as I went about my daily business but my phone stayed firmly in my pocket and my camera stayed at home. Then I read about something I couldn’t bear to miss, rain or no rain.
Of course we couldn’t stay in the warm pub forever. We lingered as long as we could, sipping our coffee slowly and letting the warmth seep back into our cold bones. When we could put it off no longer we bundled ourselves up in our warm coats and hats and stepped back into the frozen world outside. After the warmth of the fire it seemed colder than ever. Continue reading Snowmen and spring flowers
“I’m not walking up Woodmill Lane,” CJ said, once I’d presented him with all the options.
He had a point, even without snow it’s a steep and seemingly unending climb to the Castle at Midanbury and an even steeper descent on the other side. Despite the cold, he didn’t want to turn back yet either though so we crossed the road and kept going along the river. Continue reading Frozen bridges, frozen feet
Today I was supposed to be tailwalking the Eastleigh 10k. With the bitter cold and unending rain of the last few days it wasn’t a prospect I was relishing. Tailwalking is usually a slow business and the current weather demands a fast pace to keep warm. As it was, the weather decided to intervene. A few flakes of snow began to fall as we left parkrun yesterday morning. While we were enjoying our post parkrun coffee in the Bellemoor a message came through to say the race was cancelled. It was something of a relief. By the time we left the pub it was snowing in earnest and, by this morning, it was clear cancelling the race had been a smart move. Continue reading When winter and spring collide
After the snow came the rain. It seemed to go on and on with one cold, grey, damp day following another. Walking was something to get from a to b as quickly as possible rather than an enjoyment. There was plenty of it but nothing that warranted pulling my phone out of my pocket. Today though, there was a brief dryish spell and I had an errand that took me along the riverbank. Continue reading Lovely weather for ducks
There aren’t many things sadder than a fire in a bookshop. Just after midday on 6 March the large Waterstones store in Above Bar caught fire. The city centre was brought to a standstill by thick black smoke as thousands of pounds worth of beautiful books burned. I wasn’t there but I saw a video on Facebook and felt like crying. Continue reading Fire, demolition and disaster
Instead of melting away as we’d expected, the snow kept on falling. All day and all night it fell. By morning the decking and garden were covered in a thick layer of white and it was still snowing sporadically. My mission for the day was to take a parcel to the post office and maybe take a walk down to the river. With my yaktrax on and so many clothes I could barely move my arms, I set off. Continue reading More snow and a fruitless trip to the village
In the battle between parks and walls the walls won. The snow seemed to be getting harder so staying close to nice warm shops and cafes seemed the sensible thing to do. The precinct was almost deserted. All the really sensible people were probably in WestQuay enjoying the warm and dry. We walked past and headed straight for Bargate. There was less snow than I’d hoped but the medieval gateway stood on an island of white with flurries of fat flakes fluttering all around it. Continue reading A snowy walk of the walls
Just when it felt like spring was yawning, stretching and preparing to throw off the winter covers, the weatherman said a big snow storm was blowing in from Russia. I frantically searched the house for my yaktrax and thought about where I could go walking in it. Ok, maybe I have issues, but we don’t get snow very often here on the south coast. My inner cyclic said it would probably come to nothing. The Met Office are fond of making snow mountains out of a few flakes. Continue reading The beast from the east