Grit your teeth

It snowed today. Fast and furious. So fast and so furious that within an hour of starting, the hill I live at the top of became impassable.

So, with cars abandoned left right and centre, it was time to do the neighbourly thing and spread the grit, stored in a bin at the bottom of the hill, to clear the road. Primarily so that my Tesco grocery delivery could be delivered, as starving was only going to serve to hasten certain death by freezing.

Off I trundle with a little bucket and spade, which I fill and start spreading on the road. There I am standing in the middle of the road risking life, limb and certain death from being run over while my neighbours are watching from the warmth and safety of their various homes. And waving at me.

One man did actually appear on the road, commended me on the job I was doing and walked on down the street, so I made sure not to grit the footpath outside his house. I know, you didn't think I had it in me to be that nasty. Well, you spend and hour and a half gritting the road in the heavy snow, carting buckets of salt up a steep, slippy hill and see how generous you feel.

And now, a bottle of mulled wine later and safe in the knowledge that my food order has been delivered by Tescos, I'm off to soak in a bath as my poor arms, which are dangling down round my knees, feel like they've been pulled out of their sockets.