SNOW is falling, all around me.
Outside the cul-de-sac is quieter than usual, because no-one has ventured out much tonight. We made a slippery dash to the Spar shop about nine, but there's no sound out there now.
Someone has spread grit across the road, which is nice. I have put a couple of shovel-fulls on the steep sloping driveway in the hope of being able to get the car out tomorrow.
Mrs H's car is refusing to start at the moment, so we are a one-Mazda family for the time being.
So, the big question is this. When the alarm goes off in the morning and we look out of the window towards Collaton and the green hills beyond, how much snow will there be?
At the moment you can just see a handful of tiny flakes fluttering about under the orange street lights. A dusting has settled on the ground, about the thickness of icing sugar on a mince pie.
The weathermen say much more is up there in the clouds, waiting to fall. How much will there be?
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