Wandsworth Council had the massive good sense to grit the High Street in anticipation of this swirling snow; I had the massive good sense to leave my wellies at the sea.
It is sub arctic in this house. I am in bed wrapped in Granny's mink coat, inside out for fear of animal activists breaking into my bedroom and threatening me with an invitation to a rally on anti-vivisection. Mr Smith is in his nice warm office in nice warm Richmond.
This is the week I was going to swim a mile (in one go) but looking at the weather, the large white blob outside that I think is my car, the road being closed, no wellingtons - only Jimmy Choos, I think this will end up on my unachieved goals list. However, it might be warm there. I could sit in the steam room - but it's a bit boring because your book goes all crinkly and it's tricky to see the writing through the steam and specs are, obviously, useless. Maybe I should try the sauna then I could run out into the snow and roll around on the tennis court. Maybe not, the Club Committee would no doubt find some rule in the little rule book that covers such misdemeanours and I would, once again, cause Mr Smith deep embarrassment.
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