The snow starts to fall

It's still falling... All the talk at work was about snow, snow, snow, and how people were going to get into work. I think London's quite prepared for it, though. For once, the pavement up my steep street was gritted on both sides, and gritter had been on the roads.

I scoured the central London charity shops at lunchtime for 12 inch records for Si's 33-and-a-third birthday party on Thursday night. I thought vinyl would be cheap to buy, but Oxfam had 12 inch records at a minimum of £1.49 and that, it seemed, is the going rate, even for Johnny Hates Jazz. I did have a good laugh in there, though, when a lady flounced down the shop wearing the most enormous feather boa, which swamped her upper body, saying 'I think it might be too outrageous.' Her friend doubled over with laughter. I was disappointed that she didn't buy it, even to wear around the house and feel extravagant. I was tempted...

In the evening, I met Si for a chocolate stout down the local pub so I could hand over some work (that's the kind of work handover I like). Then I walked swiftly back to the house to read a book in bed. I was astonished when Whisky climbed onto my lap since he's not a lap cat at all. I think he must have been really cold. Fred was quite jealous of my lap cat, but he refused to take a photo of it for my blip. So, here's a blip of the snow instead.