Blimey, happy December 1st! For anyone who happens to be reading this in North America I can see your faces smirking at the thought of us Brits struggling across snowy roads, down snowy lanes and up snowy steps, but take note: in the Highlands tonight it's expected to drop to -25. That makes my heart shudder. No question about it, I would absolutely die if I lived that far north. All across the country we're wrapped in layers of clothing and attempting to stop children from eating yellow snow. My mother is looking at stocking the kitchen cupboards with a big shop tomorrow in case the big freeze goes on past Friday. Who'd 'ave thought.
Chris and I made it back to Suffolk yesterday afternoon via a snowy and icy M25 (always prepared we had an apple and a muesli bar) having spent the weekend in London and Brighton. We caught up with friends in Kingston and had Sunday lunch with most of his family and shook the hands of nephews we hadn't seen in two years - they were boys no more and I felt positively ancient! We topped it off by spending Monday night in a lovely Brighton hotel, revisiting the old haunts of where we lived eight years ago. It was terrific - we ate delicious food, wandered the Lanes, shopped for gifts and watched a wintry sun set on the horizon of a slate grey sea as we sat cuddled up on the infamous pebbled beach.
Lying in bed that night we listened to the fierce wind beat against the windows and snuggled down as our baby flicked my stomach and made its presence known. Chris leaves for Africa next week, but takes with him the gentle hopes and dreams we have as a family in the making. His work beckons and at some point tomorrow we've got to sit down to finalise the drawings of lodge accommodation, the selling of our overland truck, the lodge budget, staff wages and the chosen colour to paint the store - it all seems so surreal, especially as tonight he's gone to watch a football match, Ipswich V's West Bromwich Albion.
Bless him and his chilly hands, he's not touching me this evening......!*%#@*!