Winter arrived yesterday. The high roads were closed or passable only with care. One was blocked by a gritter wagon which got stuck.
We didn’t have such problems down below, just dark skies in the middle of the morning & lots of blustery squally showers, some of which counted as hail, though fortunately just the sleety slush puppy kind, not the pelting frozen marbles that really sting the skin, create a terrible noise on the roof of the bus or make you fear for the glass roof of your conservatory.
This morning the radio told me that things were bad in Buxton, but things seemed much better at home. By the time I came out it was cold but the ground was clear of all signs of ice or snow, though it was very cold & the stream was in near full spate. But I got a shock up the hill – ice & snow still on the pavement.
Still the bus arrived on time; the driver told me that, although he was on time, the bus itself was the one that should have arrived an hour earlier.
