This is a post that I publish most reluctantly, because I don't want to fall further in the affections of one of my most admired bloggers: Fran of Being Me. She said that I was one of her least favourite people. Sob. My shortcoming? Being the beneficiary of two days - Monday and Tuesday - when the college was closed because of the snow.
Sigh. Alas, alack, eheu, o me miserum, quel dommage and similar expressions of sorrow. Because... well, we did go in today - that's the good news, Fran. I had a grand total of two students in my first, two-hour class. The corridors echoed as the few hardy, keen students squelched to classes, their jeans flapping soddenly around their ankles, their boots leaving a trail of little lumps of compressed snow - Hansel and Gretel, the Arctic version. And then the longed-for email came: the college is closed till Monday. I am doomed as far as Fran's opinion of me goes.
Or, to put it another way, HURRAY!!!!
I did suffer a bit, though, Fran. I trudged a mile and a bit to the supermarket through - I'm not exaggerating - slush that came up to the tops of my wellies. I then overestimated the amount of shopping that I could carry through more slush to the bus stop. Still, it's amazing how you find that little extra bit of strength when the alternative is putting your canvas Tesco bag down in ten inches of khaki goo.
While at Tesco, I bought a hat. See above. I did this because I don't possess such a thing, the reason being that I've never needed one in recent decades. Persiflage asked if it's true if the British, when snow falls, always react as if it's a great surprise, and the answer is yes, sort of. Because we really get very little snow - or at least we did before global warming set in (there's a misnomer for you...). Councils can't have huge workforces just sitting around in snowploughs waiting for the two days of slight sleet that we tend to get. So it's not surprising that they get into a bit of a stooshie when something unprecedented like the current weather hits us. I have never seen snow so deep.
I haven't actually worn the hat yet, but I'm confident that it'll make me almost indistinguishable from the gnome line-up of two posts ago.
Sorry, Fran. As I sit drinking coffee and reading Kate Atkinson tomorrow, I'll spare you a thought. Is that ok? Do you like me again now?