Skip to main content

Snow on snow

The defining feature of our trip to the UK this Christmas was snow. Lots of snow.

A few days before Christmas, snowstorms hit both the east coast of America, where some of my family live, and the south-east of England, my parents' residence. My grandparents had to cancel their 60th wedding anniversary party and my mom slipped on ice and almost got snowed in at the Royal Berkshire Hospital. Meanwhile in Texas, all this seemed far away and we flew out of D/FW airport on the 23rd in temperatures of about 22C/75F. While warm for this time of year, we didn't expect it to drop too far as we departed for icier climes.


However, a couple of days later I checked a friend's blog and saw this. It was hard to believe, but had we tried to fly a scant 24 hours later, we would have celebrated Christmas at the airport. If celebrated is the word.

Instead, we had safely reached my parents' house and were happily engaged in building our first snowman in many years. Meet Sidney the Seated Snowman.



Heading north to Graham's parents, we were enthralled by the silent hills sleeping beneath their snowy blanket. The air was so still that a snowplough scraping its way along the country lanes could be heard miles away. Down on the canal, ducks left waddling footprints on the slushy ice and dropped unconcernedly into dark chilly water. Can't they feel the cold? Our own feet were numb from the slush working its way through our boots, and we hurried home to warm them up with fluffy slippers and mulled wine.



New Year was spent in the Peak District. The sun shone and the hills were sifted with powdered sugar and royal-iced in shining peaks and curves. We slipped and slid up boot-trampled paths to the top of Mam Tor, and floundered, shrieking, through loose snow up to our thighs. It was awesome.





Returning to Reading to catch our flight home, we were disconcerted to hear that more snow was expected to fall that night. By 6pm it had started. By 8pm our car was thickly coated and we were discussing the likelihood of reaching Heathrow in the morning. We woke up to 7 inches and the white flakes still drifting down. Heathrow appeared to be the only airport in the UK still operating, so we swept the car free and ploughed carefully through the snow. Fortunately Mom and Dad aren't far from the motorway, and slow and steady made it. We drove into a whirling white blur with the radio reciting endless lists of school closures and the steady swish of salty slush beneath the tyres. Gradually the blur eased and the slush receded, and we were at the airport and on our way home.
Labels:

Comments

Limitless Snow said…
Nice article, which you have shared here about the snowstorm. Your article is very informative and I liked your way to share your experience in this post. Thank you for sharing this article here. Port Coquitlam Snow management service
9 January 2020 at 01:51
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dove Valley Walk: Going round the bend

Somewhere between Marchington and Uttoxeter, the wiggles of the River Dove stop wiggling west to east, and start wiggling north to south. If it went in straight lines, it would make a right-angled bend. As I'm following the river upstream, this was my last section walking west. After this it's north to the Peak District and Dovedale. here the Dove swings north The main walk of this section was all on the south side of the river. But I also did a separate, shorter walk, to explore the village of Doveridge, and the old Dove Bridge which is tantalisingly glimpsed from the A50. Walk 1: Marchington to Uttoxeter I liked Marchington even more as I arrived there for the second time. I parked opposite the village shop - noting the "ice cream" sign outside for later - and near the brick-built St Peter's Church, with a war memorial built in above the door.  A few streets took me to the other side of the village, where I found a path alongside a stream, then across some hay m
Post a Comment
Read more

Dove Valley Walk: Meeting the Limestone Way

At Uttoxeter my route along the Dove Valley met some official long-distance trails. First the Staffordshire Way north to Rocester, then the Limestone Way continuing up towards Dovedale. Graham joined me on today's walk, which included the Staffordshire Way section and the first part of the Limestone Way. Unusually, it was a one-way hike; we got the bus back.   Uttoxeter to Ellastone Graham and I parked at Uttoxeter train station. It's very cheap for the day if you park after 10am, but I was worried about getting back in time for the school run, so we got there at 9:20 and paid the more expensive rate (still only £3).  We started off across flat fields towards the A50 and Dove Bridge. A group of young cattle gave us hard stares as we walked past. I posted a photo of a wonky gate on the Gate Appreciation Society with the caption "Parallelogate" and it quickly accumulated 200 likes - many more than this post will get!   Passing the old Dove Bridge again , we ploughed t
1 comment
Read more

San Antonio

San Antonio is towards the south of Texas and feels very much more Mexican than American. The balmy evenings, the colourful Mexican market, the architecture of the buildings, and the number of people speaking Spanish around us all added to the impression. The city, in fact, grew out of a Spanish mission and presidio (fort), built in 1718 as part of Spain's attempt to colonize and secure what was then the northern frontier of the colony of Mexico. Texas was then a buffer zone between Mexico and the French-held Louisiana, and Spain was keen to cement her hold on the area by introducing settlers and converting the natives to Catholicism and loyalty to the Spanish government. The missions in general had no great effect, but the San Antonio area was the exception to the rule, growing into an important city with five missions strung out along the San Antonio river. The first of these, San Antonio de Valero, later became well-known as the Alamo, where 182 Texans died in 1836
3 comments
Read more