It snowed again last night. Not a lot, just enough to slip on and break something vital. I always say that deep snow is fine–breaks your fall. Shall0w, icy snow is just slippery.
So off we went to Swansea anyway. There was a slippery moment at the top of our road, which is steep and does not get salted, but the wheels spun, I steered into the skid, and off we went on increasingly dry roads to the supermarket.
Which was close to deserted.
“I think this calls for breakfast, before the crowds arrive,” I said.
“Why not get the shopping done before the crowds arrive?”
“Christmas shopping is no fun unless there are lots of people to crush with my trolley.”
“Oh. OK then.”
Breakfast was fine, sitting in the sun on the warm side of the windows, and then we hit the aisles. Actually, there weren’t all that many people, and I didn’t get to crush a single one. We got the last of our booze and all the non-perishables, together with food to take us up to Christmas Eve. Christmas and Boxing Day lunches will come from M&S on Wednesday.
“How you feeling now?” Graham asked.
“My foot is giving me hell but other than that I’m doing fine.”
“Hmmm. I think we’ll go home now, then.”
“You’re probably right. Home, then.”
“Good. Home, then.”
