Lovely weather for ducks

15 March 2018

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

Fire, demolition and disaster

10 March 2018

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

More snow and a fruitless trip to the village

2 March 2018

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

A snowy walk of the walls

1 March 2018

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

The beast from the east

1 March 2018

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