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.
The snow was powdery and deep, at least for southern England. It crunched satisfyingly underfoot. My pleasure in walking through it lasted all the way to the main road, all of a hundred yards.
Now the snow was dirty grey and packed down by passing feet. The road had been gritted at some point and was relatively clear but there were icy patches on the hill. There wasn’t a great deal of traffic but what there was was moving fast. Every passing car made me nervous. A lady came past towing her shopping on a tabogan. It’s not something you see every day but I had to admire her inventiveness.
Even wearing yaktrax the climb to the top of the hill was hard work. The deep, dirty snow took a lot of effort to negotiate, a little like walking through wet sand. Several cars skidded through the red traffic light as I waited to cross the road, adding to my nervousness.
It was a relief to reach to top of the hill and get away from the traffic. The climb had taken far more effort than I’d expected, leaving me hot and breathing heavily in all my layers of clothes, although my fingers and nose were frozen. After all that, the post office, like many of the village shops, was closed.
My trek up the hill had been a waste of effort and I had to carry my parcel back home. Walking back down the main road with my back to the skidding cars didn’t bear thinking about so I decided to take the back streets even though it would be a longer walk. The smaller roads were ungritted and snow covered. The traffic was almost non existent and the snow was, for the most part, still white and crunchy. The hill was far steeper but at least I was going down rather than climbing.
The snow was falling again when I got to the top of the Little Hill. As the local children were taking advantage of the steep, slippery hills, I decided to walk the long way round rather than risk being hit by an out of control toboggan.
It was a pleasant enough walk. The yaktrax made short work of the snow and even coped with the icy patches where people had cleared the paths. Pretty soon I was turning the corner and looking down on my little house all covered with snow.
When I set out I’d thought about walking down to the river. Now all I could think about was getting inside in the warm. Sometimes snow is better from the inside looking out.
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