Trapped.

It’s getting to the time when I need to go to the nearest town and buy some food. It’s seven miles away, which is a long way to walk with a load of heavy groceries. The old car I borrowed has a starting problem, so I decided the best thing to do would be to walk the two miles to the nearest main road and pick up the regular bus service.

I called the bus company for timetable details. You don’t talk to the bus company these days, you talk to a call centre. They told me the service isn’t operating today, even though I gather the main roads are clear. They didn’t know why; they don’t have that kind of information. So they couldn’t offer any indication as to when the service is likely to resume. I know the local council has a rural transport department, so I called them. I got a recorded message telling me they’re too busy and can’t take my call. I’m now in a situation in which I’m running low on food and unable to get out and buy some; and I can’t even talk to anybody to find out what’s happening.

I’m sure life didn’t used to be like this.

And I’m supposed to say ‘Ooh, isn’t the snow lovely,’ am I?

We had more truckloads of the stuff last night. The last time I saw snow this deep was when I was doing a winter photographic commission for the Northumberland National Park twenty years ago. I was up in the Cheviot Hills on the England-Scotland border. The last time I saw snow this deep down at this level was thirty years ago. I want it GONE.