Further ramblings of a self-made pauper

It had already been snowing for a couple of hours at least at seven o'clock this morning and it is still snowing now. It is also sticking - for the time being at least - which is rare for London at the best of times and especially so in April. I'm not sure why we woke up so early today, but we did, so that's how I know that it's been coming down so long. So much for the Sunday lie in!

Anyway, a few photos for posterity (and I am far from the first to post them today). Other than the first one, I shall hide the rest behind a cut so you don't have to bother if you don't feel like it, or don't have the spare bandwidth. Is there anyone left, pace fencingsculptor, who is still on dial up?


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More later, but probably no more pictures of the snow at least.

I must check the settings on the camera - these pictures and those few snaps I took in Brighton at Easter are a little dark.

The snow has reached north London. For the first time in the 12 months I've lived in Whetstone, it is snow worthy of the name, cutting visibility to a couple of hundred yards at best. Yes, I realise this is still nothing to those of you in Chicago or Toronto and such places, but this is good stuff in England, and particularly in London which is always a good three or so degrees warmer than anywhere else.

Oh.

It's stopped again.

As you were, everybody.

Clearly organised by London Transport, winter seems to be here at last. For just about the first time this year, London is having a sustained flurry of snow.

I was going to write snow storm but I didn't want to send those of you in North America into paroxysms of laughter (it's snowing, but it's softy southern English snow, which means that it looks like falling talcum powder and melts when you say "boo" to it).

Nonetheless, it's nice to see. Pity it isn't a little heavier and sticking, if only for a few hours.

I'll probably regret it in the morning, but I have just run the clippers over my pate and cut my beard back to a goatee.

It all took longer than it should; I think I shall have to dismantle the clippers for a good clean and oil before I use them next time. Or maybe buy a new set. They seem to need stripping down more and more frequently these days and I fear that the motor is probably not as strong as it once was. The reason I think I might buy a spare set is that I have a horror of the damned things packing up completely while I am part way through trimming my hair, so at best I should have to go out with a reverse Mohican, and at worst look like someone suffering from radiation sickness.

I like to think that I am no more than normally vain, but I do have some pride (and an astonishingly low embarrassment threshold in certain circumstances).

My first hair trim of the year is usually the signal for a bout of cold weather, but like the timing of the full moon, I cannot control the rate of hair growth, so sometimes I shaves me bonce earlier than I'd like. So like Punxsutawney Phil, I predict a further six weeks of winter.

Odd that my usually infallible right ankle didn't predict today's bout of cold rain, though. Make of that what you will.