by nicepaul, editing by me.

Late Thursday night, Mother Nature decided to dump about 8 inches of snow over Brighton. A snow day was declared, although the snow was found to be too fine and fluffy for good snowmen building, and it was a fun Friday. Right up til about 4pm when it became clear getting a taxi to the work Christmas party would be impossible.

And so a city car club car was hired and Mummy and Daddy left their angels with the babysitter and ventured out into the snow. It was somewhat hairy getting off our hill but once on the main roads it was okay and the party was fun, if a little quiet because a few invitees could not get through the snow. The parents returned early to relieve the babysitter and all was good.

The next day was Saturday. The snow was still thick on the ground, having melted only a little the previous day. In fact, just enough to create a nice crunchy crust of ice. Mummy and Daddy brought round the babysitter again, with another hire car, and set off to get festive food and drinks. The queues were, predictably, horrendous but they battled on through.

After they got back home again, Daddy used the big red buggy to transport the shopping home over the snowy pavements which were now more like sheet ice. The word forecasters use for this is ‘treacherous’. The word Mummy used when she nearly fell over would get this journalling a specific age rating and so has been left off the record. Then the car slide on the ice so Daddy had to leave it where it was (on a neighbour’s drive) and phone the car club to say he had been defeated by the elements, despite fighting valiantly with a kettle and some cardboard.

Sunday dawned and much of the snow had began to melt. On the grass it cracked underfoot. On the pavement it was more likely anything cracking underfoot would be a person’s bones. Mummy and Toby braved the outside for a visit to Santa and were not thwarted by the lack of buses, the fact buses appear to be mortally terrified of hills or the fact that Brighton and Hove City Council didn’t think gritting pavements was a worthwhile pursuit. Our trip down an icy and very steep Varndean Road will be forever filed under ‘never again’. Anyone who wishes for a white Christmas in a place singularly unequipped for snow is welcome to take over my shopping.