This morning the guys clearing the car park were using 'shovels' made of plywood rectangles screwed onto handles, pieces of molding, etc., defending their square of black asphalt against the white tide that continues to blanket hedgerows and cooling towers across Great Britain. (Great pic from The Times).But its lovely in the snow. We took the train to Wales today - it was our Plan B: The people in Scotland thought we were quite mad, and said that there was too much snow to chase Black Grouse and Crested Tits in the woods - and, outside the train windows, the fields of sheep glowed blue then violet as the sun slipped low. Tonight we're staying in a old carriage house hotel in Machynlleth (pron: Mah-khun-khleth, go figure), and the place feels full of people in good spirits, making excuses to prolong their evening's stay by the hearth. They're talking about car batteries failing, the frozen pitch for tonight's game. Surreal-ly as imagined on TV.
Tomorrow we go out with Elfyn (pron: Elfin! Tee hee) to hopefully pick up some of the last of Britain's winter birds that would be new for Mandy. Fingers crossed.
