I didn’t know that the day I usually love (all of my Friday the 13ths have been good ones) would turn out to be like it has.  I’ve had a 6th of my hours cut, and I wasn’t even the worst affected.

The snow hasn’t melted and I know the temperature at work hasn’t warmed either, this has truly turned out to be a winter of discontent. There are lots of couples who will be affected – a friend will lose 12% of her whole family’s income as both herself and her partner work there.  Then there’s another girl, whose mum and brother also work for the company, all 3 of them have lost hours.  But as everyone kept saying, at least we’ve got jobs.

It’s more than a pity that our company happens to be 25%-owned by a man heavily tied up with an Icelandic investment company.  A company who just went bankrupt.

Words fail me.  But I doubt that with time they’ll come and they’ll be furious and hurt and strong.  Just not yet.

It being a day off for me this morning, I awoke to Mr. VP leaving.  I kissed him farewell into the cold semi-lit morning.  A trace of mist as his breath left me and he pounded the pavements to reach the bus.

I turned off all the lights, opened the curtains and retreated to bed.  The semi-lit morning, the warmth and heaviness of the down duvet and the softness of the brushed cotton sheet all aided me into a restful sleep.  I woke an hour or so later with a phonecall from Mum.  It was slightly brighter yet I didn’t want to get out of bed.

I considered the pros and cons of staying in bed all day.  In the pros column: flanelette pajamas, sleep, warmth and an unending one-sided diatribe coming from Radio 4.  In the cons: not getting the house sorted (an unending, thankless task), feeling incredibly guilty, and feeling I could potentially waste a day.

I rose slowly and pondered my puffy morning face in the mirror.  Slightly smudged eyeliner and the remnants of eye make-up.  I didn’t think the day would prove to be anything productive.  As I climbed into the shower I noticed through the frosted glass that there was an awful lot of white outside.  I knew it hadn’t been snowing earlier, but as I watched I could just make out large flakes falling.

It continued and rather quickly, and before my eyes,  the world turned entirely white.  We’re now up to 5 inches and it’s still snowing.

I considered going back to bed again and forgetting the world.  I thought about a friend at work, who looked ghostly on Monday and Tuesday, after the news that they are cutting our hours to safeguard against possible redundancies.  I keep thinking of the mantra; “last in first out”.  I carried on my week, waiting for next week when we’ll be told how much our hours are being cut by.  No one was prepared, no one liked it, but at least we have jobs for now.

Continuing to watch the snow fall I knew I couldn’t face the outside world, and so I tidied and cleaned the house.  As I cleaned the kitchen I found evidence of mice, living happily in our oven of all places.  Mr. VP came home from work early due to the snow and sorted the oven out for me, as it seemed to be the last straw.

I hope that with the lighter mornings that things get better.  For everyone, for the world, for ourselves.  I hope we progress and grow and move and live and I hope above hope that things resolve this winter of discontent.

It was a spur of the moment thing when I decided that it’d been too long since the three of us – Mr. VP, Frenchy and I – had been out together and therefore we’d go out and do something together, just the three of us. I had the bright idea of Allen Banks & Staward Gorge and the general idea was for us all to make picnics (or, if you want to be French, pique-nique), pop by Frenchy’s house to collect him and drive out into the wilds. The perfect way to spend the last day of my week off..

We haven’t been back to this place since 2005, when we were still living in the old Quarrymen’s cottages. It seemed like we’d been back more recently, but that is the nature of time, how quickly 4 years can pass. The last time we visited it had been mizzly, damp and dark and if I remember rightly, it was some time in March. Back then it was definitely muddy and wet but nothing like it was on Sunday. We were constantly concerned that we might get stuck somewhere icy or get snowed-in, but thankfully the roads were clear and the sky blue, though the temperature didn’t rise into the plus-figures all day.

When we got into the car park, relieved that we’d made it safely, we looked around and beheld a wonderful sight. Snow, ice and the most beautiful scene. With my wellies on, we packed up Mr. VP with the picnic in a backpack, Frenchy and Mr. VP not dressed quite as warmly as myself – with 2 jumpers and a thick coat, leather gloves and scarf – seemed not to be bothered by the icy conditions.

And truthfully, neither was I. It was stunning, the whole place was beautiful. Icicles hung from every branch and rock, snow coated every still surface and the river had frozen at the edges. It was as perfect a winter wonderland as you could want.

Children who had visited before had made a monolith, almost a cairn out of snow, which had no intention of melting. Though snow is so fleeting in this country when it does come (and let’s admit it, we haven’t seen proper snow for a long time!) we make the most out of it.

We meandered along the path, following the bends in the river and trying not to slip over on the icy path. We laughed, talked, and eventually found a place to hold our picnic. We had planned ahead and I’d made leek and potato soup, Mr. VP had made gorgeous saucisson a l’ail (garlic sausage) and salad sandwiches with crisps, a pork pie, filter coffee and even clotted cream biscuits!

Frenchy chipped the ice off a bench and we sat and ate our heavenly lunch, watching the skies and the river rush past. It’s a serene kind of place, I remember seeing little wood mice scurrying around the last time we visited, as well as my first ever sighting of a grey wagtail at the water’s edge. This time we saw robins (below) dart around us and a dipper plunge into the icy waters.

All in all, it was one of those lovely days that you would like more of. I can’t wait to go back when the snow has gone and spring is truly in the air. What a wonderful (and different) place it will be then.

In a nutshell, in paragraphs:

I was hoping that by now my cold would be better and I’d be feeling better, but I think it’s moved to my sinuses and I’m still feeling rough.  My week off flew by, as I expected it to, yet I’ve so enjoyed getting back into work – just not the tiredness.  I am trying to combat my tiredness by hopefully beginning to swim again, the only reason I stopped were the “events of Last Summer”  and the fact that our pool was flooded in the torrential rain storms of September and was thusly closed for refurbishment until the 9th (yesterday).

We’ve both been attempting to stay warm in the midst of the great British freeze, and the words “Minus 12 lows expected” chill us both to the core, especially as I now have a half-hour commute to work which includes both major and minor roads.  But I must admit the snow falling in flurries have been a lovely sight to behold.  The sky was the colour of lead as we drove home from Hexham, and though mostly melted in the fields large swathes of land was bare and white.

On Saturday morning I had a doctors appointment to find out about a rash I’ve had for the last month.  I was scared that I’d contracted ringworm, but according to my doctor it’s not, it is something called pityriasis rosea, which is caused by a virus and is in no way fungal (so I suppose a “yay” is in 0rder!).  It cures itself readily but could be another cause for the extreme fatigue of late.  According to the doctor and the Internet I should break out in spots but so far, just a smallish pale pink mark.  Who knows.  Best new of all?  I’m not contagious, so I can now hug Mr. VP with gay abandon!

I have more to tell you, especially about the weekend we’ve just had – but for now, before I fall asleep on the keyboard I must away to bed.

I decided that by the beginning of February I’d need a week off.  So I booked my holiday at the end of December and looked forward to this week for such a long time.  I love work but things around the house have been falling by the wayside, and I was definitely overdue a visit down to my Mum’s house in Lincoln.  However what with things never quite going to plan, it just happened that I started to feel a bit peaky on Monday (thanks to Mr. VP sharing his bugs!) and then it all went downhill when it turned into a full-blown cold.  Ok, it could be worse, but it was a nasty cold and between not being able to breathe and having a hacking cough it wasn’t the relaxing week originally envisaged.  Though I was mothered and spoilt rotten by Mum which was a treat in itself.

As I drove down the A1 to Lincoln the show came down in flurries.  By Rainton I was struggling to see the cars in front of me, yet it cleared an hour before I reached my destination.  I was lucky to get down on the day I did.

I watched the snow fall heavily on Monday, waking to a white wonderland full of pretty views and icily cold winds.  The cathedral looked majestic with only a mild dusting of snow upon it’s old spires.  Lincoln, in case you’re wondering, is the county of Big Skies.  It is very different to Northumberland.  I suppose it’s only since I stopped living there that I’ve come to look at the place in a different light.

There are lots of tiny hamlets and villages in the Lincolnshire countryside.  Each connected to the other by old roads, most of which are ancient and either deathly straight (the remainder of the Roman occupation) or so twisty it makes you feel as though you’re on a rollercoaster.  And Lincoln is flat, hence the big skies.  Someone at work asked where Lincolnshire was, and before I could answer, someone else chimed in that “You know Yorkshire?  Well, it’s when the hills of Yorkshire stop and everything’s flat”.  Which is true.

We went for an explore over the 3 days that I was there, firstly Lincoln then Horncastle and the countryside.  I also snuggled up on the sofa with Mum’s dog H, whilst watching the Barefoot Contessa (oh the joys of cable TV!) and crocheting a scarf (yes, I am back to doing such things after a far-too-long hiatus). I’ll give pattern details and info when I get a chance.

It didn’t feel that long a drive on the way back but when you’re not feeling great, it was just as well.  As I travelled North the skies darkened and the clouds gathered, and whilst it didn’t snow or rain, the darkness followed me the further I went.

Today I am still coughing (and sounding dreadful) but I am up and about and even managed to do all of the ironing!  Mr. VP has the day off tomorrow and so I plan on doing very little – but doing it together.  At some point I’ll divulge my Crusader quilt…  It’s not finished, indeed I’m just picking it up after months of neglect.  But it’s going through a bit of a transformation and thusly a new name.  Still using the same squares, it’s now the Freedom quilt, for lots of reasons.