Yesterday evening I looked outside, saw the clear sky, knew I had to go to the local garage for milk and bread, so asked our eldest if she wanted to accompany me. She nodded.
While pulling her coat on, she realised she was still wearing her pyjamas. Myself and W looked at each other and burst out laughing.
A few minutes later - after a rapid change - we were on our way, skidding our way towards the garage along the snow and ice covered paths. We picked up energy drinks, the Christmas edition of the Radio Times, two loaves of bread (they were on offer), milk, chocolate, and all manner of other bits and pieces. We paid, and turned to leave.
Holy crap. When did that happen?
Looking outside to the cold and crunchy world we had left moments before, we now saw a blizzard. We pulled zips up under our chins, and ventured forth.
“Aaaagggghh
By the time we arrived home, we both had our own personal snowdrifts on our hats and shoulders - much to our own amusement as we stipped the layers back off, all over the hallway.
“We’re home!”