White Out

I was startled by the unlikely sound of children laughing and shouting merrily when I opened the window in the back bedroom this morning to admire the snow and feel the temperature. They were way down the lane, a small group with sledges which they were hauling up the hill to fly down again. It looked and sounded very jolly, the laughter travelling across the fields easily though I needed my binos to see them. The schools must be closed, and there has been very little traffic past the house. Everywhere looks pristine, a good few inches of snow covering the ground and the roofs. Apart from the children's voices there is no sound, the world muffled and asleep. Sitting in my cosy house with a pile of unread books, food in the fridge and freezer, and a contented dog lying by my side, it's easy to feel lucky. I try to ignore other troubles and focus on these positives. Hugo hasn't lingered when I've sent him out to perform his duties, but eventually the enforced inactivity got too much, and I wrapped us both up and ventured outside. The snow is soft and powdery, and so thick that it was easy to walk without slipping. I left Hugo off the lead and he scampered ahead, running on the tyre tracks where the snow has compacted and skidding on his long legs. We didn't stay out for long but it was worth it.

I've been topping up the bird feeders as fast as they are emptied, and currently a large female blackbird is sitting on the window tray both sheltering from the snow that is now whirling around again, and eating the seeds. It's amazing that the birds survive these cold temperatures, along with the poor old hares squatting low in the fields. My log man rang to say he couldn't deliver as expected today but will try again tomorrow. I think I've got enough to last until the weekend, but with central heating the woodburner is a luxury really.Then my hairdresser called to say she was trapped in her village and I wouldn't be getting my hair cut tomorrow. Ah well, better wash it myself then.

As I sat on the kitchen sofa with my computer on my lap and the lights on around me I suddenly caught sight of my reflection. But as I looked more closely I could see that I was wearing a man's shirt and tie, with a smart jacket over the top. I froze, trying to make sense of what I saw, and when I tilted the laptop slightly, James Joyce's face came into view. I had been seeing the reflection of the painting behind me, not myself. Oh, the relief. Me and Hugo were still alone.