It’s weird when you wake up at the crack of dawn and open the front door to find the whole landscape has changed. Trousers might have been a sensible idea, Editor Des.
What one earth! While we were sleeping the snow was quietly falling. We don’t often get snow at Blackheath….not .this much anyway.
Well bless my heart! A little bit of magic.
Better hop back inside, mate. You need a warm breakfast. Porridge would be the best I think. And hot, strong tea. I notice you share your guardian Pauline Conolly’s interest in crime.
A cosy home is a true blessing.
Some folk are not so fortunate. Poor little duck had to break a hole in the ice and snow to have a drink. And that is a cold blanket he’s wearing!
Well goodness me…an unidentified intruder. No wonder that duck is taken aback, so to speak. Here’s a mystery for you to solve Editor Des. Looks like an unusual tread, that should be a clue.
After breakfast a snowman has to be made of course, albeit a rather pathetic one in this instance. That green ‘hat’ was a failed attempt at a French beret.
Do you know what? The best thing to do on a day like this is……LEAVE on the first available train.
Watch where you step though. It’s easy to see that the village of Blackheath is not totally prepared for the hazards of snow. Never mind, they do their best.
Here it comes, and right on time.. Thank goodness for that. Down the hill we go, because….. we don’t really like snow!
See you when that white stuff has gone.