It’s probably not exactly news that winter’s come back for another go in these parts. Unfortunately, this coincided with a round of various activity: the Professor was in Aberdeen, where he was to go to the United Trades dinner (i.e. the local equivalent of the London livery companies) and meet up with the Emblematist, who was giving a paper. They would then come back together. This was all grievously curtailed when the Met Office Cat issued a severe weather warning: the Emblematist turned up in Aberdeen by train because he’d been unable to get his car out of the drive down South, and the pair of them, having contemplated the way things seemed to be developing , ended up cancelling both paper and dinner, and coming back here in a taxi. I meanwhile was contemplating a day of grey sog, unattractive, but certainly not exciting. However, the wind started getting up in the course of the evening, and we had a night of blizzard. By morning, the electricity was off & the back door couldn’t be opened due to drifting snow. We were reasonably sanguine about this because it’s wet, and fell on wet ground, ambient temperature is well above freezing, and what is falling is sleety rain. The Emblematist decided he had to get back today, which came as a surprise, we’d thought he was staying till Thursday, so we phoned some people to see what was going on out there (having no power, we couldn’t get onto the net) and decided to put him on a bus. We were cozened into a state of undue optimism by the lawn, which was, and is, melting fast. As we headed up the track, we discovered there was a foot of snow on it, and the car stuck fast. I started trying to walk the Emblematist out while the Professor reversed the car, but wimped out on the discovery that the snow was melting, not anything like fast enough to help with the car, but with the result that the two tyre tracks achieved at an earlier hour by the neighbour’s big vehicle (which stands a good deal higher above the road than ours) had become fastmoving streams of meltwater and surged right over my shoes. We’d not gone very far before I was soaked to the ankles – the Emblematist was more sturdily booted, and so gallantly said this was daft and charged on into the sleet while I turned back. The Professor, who by then had got the car to a place of safety, pulled on wellies and set off in pursuit accompanied by the dog. The power had meanwhile come back on, so I ransacked the food cupboard for something to make soup out of, a primitive instinct in times of extreme climate, and set about making borscht with some senile beetroot I found lurking in the depths. The Professor and Miss Best Friend returned a few minutes ago, without the Emblematist, so I think he must have caught his bus. The Professor has gone off to have a bath. Miss BF says she’s had one, thank you so very much.