An early morning whisky.

Wilf, who has now recovered from yesterdays down day , joins me for a trip into town in the big 4x4. We're off to buy the breakfast croissants. No bread in the bakers . Overnight, the pipes in the centre of the little market town have frozen solid so there's no water for making dough. Not that it matters. The baker tells me that it's too cold for the yeast to rise.

The purple permed lady in the newsagent is also waterless. She's standing behind the counter with no less than three, three bar electric fires burning away . The poor thing still not warm despite wearing seven layers of clothing and a red felt hat. It's seemingly the worst winter since 1907. '' My mother told me so ! " . I can't but help wonder how old her mother must be. Perhaps she meant grandmother .

Due to the lack of water Wilf fails to get his illicit half croissant at the cafe under the arcades. He does however get a hair tousle. The snowed in postman , who has nothing to do, offers me an early morning whisky chaser . I thank him but decline . Wilf spends the rest of his day dozing by the fire snuggled up next to ' the font ' who is doing an online Mandarin course. Old PON's know : " If you want to go fast , go alone . If you want to go far , go together " .