Snow fights

Today began with a row about brussels sprouts. How I hate the little horrors. However, Mr Smith is rather partial to them and considers them the only required vegetable from November to March. I was trying to send him out to shop for some cauliflower, brocolli and other veg of the sort I like. It was when I got to celeriac he threw a tantrum then he made it snow, massively, so no vegetable hunting could take place for the rest of the day; in fact probably not until late February.

Oh it's so deep and so white and so pretty. The council estate suddenly looks like Switzerland where vicious dogs frolic charmingly alongside their crack cocaine dealer owners. The charity shops have tinselled windows and all the stolen cars are bedecked in white mantles. All right, I was reduced to shopping locally and am trying to make the best of it.

Mr Smith's temper was not at it's very best due to golf being snowed off. I have a nasty feeling this is merely the start of his grumpiness and it will accelerate throughout Christmas trying my patience to New Year. The usual referee, mother-in-law, might not make the Christmas fixture as she lives in the very snowy north. I have yet to suggest to Mr Smith he goes up the M1 to get her; I'll wait til he's in a better mood.