Today has given us some proper snow in Cardiff. None of the pseudo-snow of earlier in the week, but proper white stuff that is sticking and turning everything white!
Here are some pics I took a few hours ago, although it has got heavier and a little deeper since then.
You can just about see Bruce in this one, before he went to hide in the hedge.
This was when I first let Bruce out in the snow and he wasn't very sure of it. Last time we had snow, it was so deep you couldn't see his legs when he went outside.
This is Bruce when he returned from his snowy adventure and needed a nap in the blanket to warm up a bit!
I'm hoping that the snow won't last as where we live gets cut off in the snow as the council forgets to grit, resulting in it being too dangerous to drive and the bus company refusing to come through.
On the down side today, the washer in the tap in our bathroom sink has broken, meaning we either have water coming out of the tap constantly or it sounds like a whistling kettle, which by the way is particularly annoying! As you know, the DIY skills in our house are somewhat lacking, so even if we could get to the shop to get a new washer, we don't actually know what to do with it because we have a bit of a fancy tap. Not that we would know what to do if we didn't have a fancy tap!
I'm a rugby widow today as the 6 nations rugby has started. I hate sport, I can't be bothered with it. I don't mind watching the Bluebirds live or going to the odd rugby national, but I just don't understand the sports obsession and why it is so exciting. Not great when Steve loves all sports and plays quite often. Each to their own I suppose!
How was everyone's weekend? I had a lovely girly satrurday with good food and good company. Sunday, not so much though.
Two of our fence panels blew down in the high winds the other week and it took until last week to get new ones delivered. So Sunday was the f-day. F obviously standing for fence (although I could think of other things!).
I nominated myself project manager for this task (naturally) and after a quick phone call from Steve, we doubled our man power (to two men) and got one of the boys to come and help, with the promise it would only take 10 minutes to slot the panels in.
Five hours later they were finished! During this five hours Steve had to get onto a trampoline to make himself taller, his mate suffered vertigo on a step stool that was about, ooh, a foot and a half off the ground, a trip had to be made in search of more manly tools to get the job done and there was an injury when a hammer came into contact with a finger.
This all made me think, why are we so obsessed with doing it ourselves and why do men suddenly think they are invincible as soon as they are within 10 feet of a tool bag?
I have to clarify here, that all the tools we own were not brought into our home by man. Oh no. They were all brought by me, a 5ft1 girl. When I was younger I was always involved in the DIY and built up a fair collection of tools as my Dad liked to buy me random gifts (the axe for my 18th birthday was a classic, but fair play, it's come in handy!).
On the plus side, we now have a fence instead of two gaps, and Steve feels a sense of pride every time he reverses into the drive. I, on the other hand, feel a sense of dread as I know we need to do a huge redecorating project this year and I don't know how I will cope with a whole house worth of painting, wall papering and DIY, plus the bickering and empty crates of beer which will become inevitable.
The TV DIY shows of my teenage years made it look so easy. But where are Alan Titchmarsh and Anna Ryder-Richardson when you need them now eh? Filming chat shows and running a zoo, that's where. And what use is that to me?
I have a couple of months to build myself up to the decorating project. Maybe a DIY book for a Valentines Day will be the way forward...
