It’s a disappointing effort by the weather and the forecasted heavy snow doesn't arrive. Even to call it a dusting would be a disservice to dustings. It all makes last night's meeting cancellation look as daft as calling off a local derby football match.
Apparently all last night’s predicted snow landed in Lincolnshire. Which means that the coldest place on earth, Sleaford, has it all and we’re there next weekend.
I run from work. I’m not planning on running all the way home, what with the Liversedge half marathon on Sunday, but that doesn't mean anything. So I get the bus to Stapleford to save me from myself and run home from there. Once home, I push L out of the door to do hers.
Of course with all this ice around, Sunday’s race may not be on. The race website is sounding a bit more positive about the race’s prospects, than they have been all week, but not much. Though they are from Yorkshire, where they don’t do positive so I expect it’ll probably be on.
On to episode five of the Millennium Trilogy, e.g. The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest.
(Friday 10th February)
Groundhog Day at the polls
16 hours ago