On it's knees

There is one sure way to bring England to it's knees. When it snows, England comes to a standstill. The tiniest flutter of those precious white flakes (who am I kidding, I don't like the snow. I certainly don't think that it's precious anyway.) and people lock themselves in their houses and go into a mini hibernation until it's all melted away. 


I have to admit, I am probably a little more than guilty of doing this. I just don't the impracticality of it. I explained to Mr.K (who was slightly amused by this idea) when it started snowing yesterday morning, that if it was up to me, when it snows, it would only snow on gardens, parks and other vast expanses of land. Basically, anywhere other than the paths and roads. Because the thing that I like the least about snow is that it means that it takes ages for people to travel anywhere, it's more dangerous and it's just basically very impractical. 

Mr. K & I like to do our bit though. We ventured out of our toasty little house, wrapped up in coats, hats, scarves & mittens to spread grit on our car park and hill. The hill is a monster hill. Steep, steep, STEEP! (The capitals are absolutely necessary here.) So we filled our mixing bowls with salt and marched up the hill several times, spreading our wares along the way. After we'd done this a few times and I had more grit down the back of my nails that I would have liked, we admired our work. In all honesty, it didn't look like it had made the hugest of differences. But the snow was a little patchier, and we felt like we'd given a little service to our neighbours. Win win.