The top of the slippery slope

Friday was my last workshop before the Christmas holidays. I was to drive 100 kilometres to a music school in Rennes to give a masterclass in the interpretation of jazz standards.

I was a little nervous about the weather, slept very little during the night before, and almost singlehandedly brought down the website of meteo france by my constant visits there in hope of an improvement in the negative temperatures and snow forecasts.

When it finally got light enough, the view from the window was not promising, and a walk down our hill confirmed that I was likely to go down it faster than I wished and not be able to get back up it again. I called the school and postponed, and suddenly all the stress disappeared, I realised that I was on holiday and felt about ten years old...snow seems to have that effect on those not actually stuck in it somewhere. The feeling persisted until today and so we took a family walk to see whether we were still stuck at the top of the hill.

Darling D ran round the garden throwing snowballs for Porridge to chase...

Mysweet bravely drove the car down the hill, delighted at the chance for some Jeremy Clarkson- type car handling. Darling D just HAD to get to a party, so he drove her to a friend's house.

Some of us found the snow so exhilarating that they were compelled to run about in it and then roll about in it.

It was an improvement on the things she usually rolls in, anyway...