A Snowy Day in London Town

It was as if the world took a cold and snowy breath yesterday and decided to have a day off. At least my world did. We woke to a hushed and beautiful scene with nearly a foot of snow on everything: branches, grass, walls, trees, my balcony and everything in sight. Strangely there were practically no cars in the street - just mine and one other parked oppposite - and they were each covered in a thick blanket of perfect white snow. Sounds were deadened and the sky was grey. Snow continued to fall for most of the day; not serious snow, but a continual soft drift of tiny flakes over everything. A few people ventured out. I took some photographs of the views from my windows, and will try and put them on for you to see, if they're worth doing. We rarely have this sort of snow, so it was a delightful surprise really. And it meant that many people took a day out - an unexpected and cosy day off. Daughter and Grandson were forced to stay at home for the day as his School and her Office were both closed. The Boyfriend was at home too, so after a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs, they put on their warmest clothes and went out to make snowmen and throw snowballs. Later they went to a sledging slope nearby and whizzed downhill in Grandson's blown-up Paddling Pool - what a great idea! In between times they retreated indoors to get warm, and had hot chocolate and cosy food to keep their strength up. Despite the fact that they were snowed in (or perhaps because of it), they made the most of their time and the weather, and had a wonderful day. It was a day they wouldn't have had otherwise, because nowadays it seems that every moment in our lives has to be accounted for.

In London, Son managed to get to work on the Victoria Line, but was the only one in his office. At one point he wondered if he was the only person in Soho! He was pretty cheerful about it, and had taken some lovely photos of snowy London which he put on his Facebook.

I sat most of the day, by the fire, reading a delightful book which I re-discovered yesterday. My new Student, a very nice man from the Czech Republic, brought me a present: a book of short stories by a Czech writer whose name seemed familiar. When I looked among my old books, I found a lovely old gardening book which I had completely forgotten about: "The Gardener's Year" by Karel Capek, illustrated by his brother Josef. My copy was published in English in 1931, and the writer died in 1938 - before I was born. It is a delightful book - one I would recommend to anyone who is interested in gardens. It's charmingly naive (as are the drawings that illustrate it), and I spent a happy few hours buried in it yesterday when I could have been doing many other things. Thank heavens for that snowy day...