Name:
Location: Cornwall, United Kingdom

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Snow in Cornwall

Arctic weather blew down over Cornwall yesterday. S went to work, annoyed that snow hadn't fallen overnight as forecast; he's worse than the teenagers he teaches. He shows all the responsibility of a weasel on uppers. The snowstorm started mid-morning, and everyone was sent home from his college at lunchtime. By mid-afternoon several centimetres of snow had fallen, with big, thick flakes falling slowly out of a stunned, gunmetal sky. My G was home all day, after being away all week, so I wasn't dog alone for once. She couldn't believe it when S rang to say he was getting the 13.35 train: there was no snow in Truro at that point. She stayed bravely at her laptop in her office while I guarded the front door faithfully.

I went out in it into the garden a few times to check out the birdfeeders; sometimes the birdfood falls to the ground, so anyone can have it. S got cross, as he was sitting by the fire trying to read his depressing Sebastian Barry novel about Irish soldiers in WWI, and I kept barking to be let out every ten minutes. After five minutes outside I'd bark to come back in. Seems perfectly reasonable to me; can't open the door myself, can I?

We all had to walk up to Sainsbury's at 5; it was like a scene from a bad sci-fi movie - all the traffic was gridlocked, and pavements were thronged with people walking like zombies on the treacherously icy ground. Cars were abandoned by the roadsides, and there were throngs of people on the station platforms, obviously having left their cars in the city, unable to get out. There were hardly any cars in the supermarket carpark, and people were having to carry bags of shopping home through the ice and snow. Because of the slippery surfaces they carried them like they were full of precious liquid.

I met a chocolate lab, tethered just inside the automatic doors; I'd been attached to the post outside. He kept sniffing my nose, and looking nervous. I looked haughty, and pretended not to see him. Then when S didn't come back soon enough after choosing some wine, I started barking, with that shrill edge I can get when I'm anxious. I was supposed to go to the groomer's yesterday, but G postponed it because of the imminent blizzard. This morning I was supposed to be going into kennels while G and S drove up to Weston for the weekend to see Nx and Gaz and the burgeoning sprout, but the A30 had been closed overnight, and was still too dangerous. They did think of going tomorrow morning, with me in the car, but the evening news suggested it was not a good idea, so maybe we will go somewhere good, like Idless woods, where the squirrels may not be expecting me.

I enjoyed my walk in the snow this morning, and did my Finnish post-sauna wriggle right down into the deepest bit, upside down and squirming my muzzle deep into the soft. I love the sensation; reminds me of that Christmas in the Dales with S's brother and wife, when we walked to Malham Tarn and got frozen, and had a pint of Old Peculier in the pub at Malham to thaw out. Didn't even like the tarn, which looked more like a lake to me. I liked the dales, which are hills really.

G made S go Christmas shopping in Truro today, which made him even grumpier than he already was. This was to punish G for being away all week again. His tactics strike me as rather aberrant. Now he's going to urge her to cook his tea, as he's hungry, and doesn't want to type this for me any longer; selfish as ever. He says they're having duck, but I don't suppose the dog will get any. My food bin is getting worryingly low, too; they're too badly organised to stock up in time.