Igenlode Wordsmith

What larks! What jinks! What fun and games!

Snow over the South of England, and the whole world comes to a halt -- adults out playing in the parks, London mired to its hubcaps, drifts in Kent. No trains, no schools, no work.

The local park was full of ten-foot snowmen like an invasion from Phobos... plus one Easter Island head from a particularly artistic contributor. I put on two of everything (and three pairs of socks, as I couldn't find any Wellingtons small enough to fit) and spent an hour or two tramping round with a steady swing, making the deliveries I'd so foolishly put off the day before; cycling, alas, was out of the question. Hard work, but good exercise, like trotting racehorses over sand... By the time I came back, the whole front of my overcoat was plastered with a shell of snow, as was my scarf -- the snow on my hat, worryingly, had melted. Clearly I need some better 'loft insulation'; perhaps I should postpone that haircut after all!

I am, in any case, feeling remarkably pleased with myself. I have successfully mended a cracked wire in a moulded-on plug, and got the plug casing back on afterwards. I have contributed an entire page to Wikipedia -- at any rate, it's still there 24 hours later, so presumably isn't about to be reverted as unsuitable. And I've discovered that I'm apparently not the only person who actually liked Sonnie Hale, which is always reassuring.

I've been doing a good deal of research into Sonnie Hale in the last couple of weeks, and have vaguely-formed plans to turn some of what I've written into a web page; I might post something here too perhaps...