There’s Snow business like Snow biz – and I’ve had enough!

Monday 4th

The ice man cometh - actually he's here already

In the midst of whatever drama the days bring I have often though how great it would be to run away to an alpine resort and just live. Well our recent Siberian experience in Scotland has put me off that idea once and for all. When the snow first arrived we were skipping through it making snowmen with the kids, having snowball fights and sighing how beautiful it looked.ho ho ho. Now peeling back the curtains in the dark morning to find another hard packed layer of snow and ice have arrived over night it’s lost it’s fun somewhat. Normal life in these conditions is a pain in the neck. Literally for Dave as he took a heider today – luckily the only thing hurt was his pride -which is Gaelic for bum.

Tuesday 5th

Teenwolf back to school today. Eyeing the snowy landscape out the window boldly I suggested he should wear some kind of boots or wellies to school. The look I got in response could have curdled milk so I kept quiet as he rolled his eyes and slid off the in direction of the school in his Top Man slip ons. My Mum tells me they used to put big wooly socks on over their shoes in ‘the olden days’ to stop them skiting about. What a great idea.

Sock it to me baby

Dig out some old holy kilt socks and give it a whirl – it works!Til Dave spots them and informs these are not old and holy they are new and bloody expensive. Oops.At least I can run away from him at speed in them.

Wednesday.

Teenwolf slides home from school as I am approaching home from the other end of the road with the dogs. Wooly socks over shoes his face is one of deep rooted embarrassment and horror. If we didn’t have to enter the same door at the same time he would most certainly have ignored me. As it was when I clocked his red face I waved and shouted at him from a good distance away.

Mortified, embarrassed, hates my new sock look apparently.

Thunderous looks as his sodden wet slip ons got kicked off in the hall and he stomped off to do his homework.aka listen to his ipod whilst watching tv and eating biscuits. My Dad once chased me down Banchory high street with a no waiting cone on his head – it’s genetic.

Thursday

One book is done and dusted and in the bag.Very excited about it but in the middle of the next one it feels a bit like a conveyor belt of brain strain. Locked in a hot room with only the frozen wastelands to distract me. To break the monotony an occasional wet wooly sock walk with the dogs to keep me from raiding the cupboards as there still lurks nuts,crisps and the horrible chocolate that I don’t really like but can’t stop thinking about cos they are there. Dark chocolate, cherry marzipans.

Even this photo brings on the dry boak. Take them away or I'll eat them

Normally my idea of hell but when needs must.

Friday

First time have seen another human since last weekend. Take off thermal vests, leggings, fleece,gloves and put on normal clothes. Feel strangely exposed.Pals round for a drink talking about the new security x rays at the airports. I will never travel again said my pal. Why not? Well not til I’ve lost 2 stone no geezer is looking at me in the buff she said as he rather brave husband piped up he wouldn’t be interested in looking at yous will try

officially never travelling again due to exposure as flabby horror.

.Trying to change the subject Dave then pipes up I don’t supposed many haemaphrodites will be keen to fly either unless they want to show off.

Saturday

Make the trip to North Berwick to see Mum. A1 like an ice rink, even our scooshers in the car are frozen up. It takes us ages to get there and frankly I just want to go to bed and eat chocolate. Mum on good form cheers me up but the overwhelming urge for sugar annd carbs gets the better of me as I slope him and lie face down on the carpet, stuffing my face and watching Love Actually on the telly. I know the story, I can virtually mouth the script with the actors and yet still I howl. I am coming back as a man.

Hopefully not this one.

AlisonsDiary

Writer & broadcaster.

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