The weather gave me a bad back again on Wednesday through intemperate use of a snow shovel and a brush.
Down it came and I had essential journeys to make and also needed to clear the drive for when my son-in-law got home from work.
On went the heavy weather gear and out came the snow shovel and I was digging like Grumpy because I certainly wasn’t Happy.
This was followed by a good brushing and then extensive use of a £6 bag of road salt. By the time I had finished, I had 50p worth left.
But at least I could get out of our side road and onto the main road. Shame the gritters hadn’t made it that far. The roads were distinctly dodgy.
Business complete, I drove carefully home to rest my back and enjoy a lunch of beans on toast with a cup of tea. It’s the simple things in life that make it worthwhile. Then up to my office to work, still in Victor Meldrew mode and cursing the dichotomy of snow – lovely to look at but a pain to endure.
It was some time later that I heard voices in the back garden and saw my wife Maria and granddaughter Jeannie building a snowman. Well, attempting to build a snowman.
The bad back was immediately forgotten, the heavy weather gear went back on and I was out there with them, rolling a chunk of snow into an ever bigger ball. It’s a technique you never lose and together the three of us created a handsome chap with stick arms and carrot nose who was such a character the Disney studio could have used him in a film. Oh, sorry, they already did. Didn’t they call him Olaf?
Snow? It’s not too bad, actually, and we did have fun.
For a short time I was Happy making my first snowman in 30 years. Until the weather took another turn for the worst.
