Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The little village remains cut off by the snow . Two days of glorious sunshine followed by cloudless , sub zero , nights have turned the roads into sheets of polished ice. The occasional fodder laden tractor trailer makes it along the lane and past the church before turning back . The steep hill at the crossroads marking an impassable descent into terra incognita . The limit of civilization registered by an abandoned white van , nose down in the roadside drainage ditch . Even Wilfs four paw drive finds the ice sheets difficult to navigate . It seems that the departement has a grand total of twelve snow ploughs. None of them has made it within twenty kilometres of us .
The family fellow spends much of his time in the kitchen . '' The font " digging ever deeper into the larder . If the ice doesn't melt soon we will be on a diet of dry pasta . Parmentier de Cabillaud et Chou-fleur Gratine for lunch . This meets with Wilfs complete approval . Magret de Canard Roti, Sauce a l'Orange et aux Kumquats for dinner . Wilf decides he could do without the kumquats . He removes these carefully from his bowl and deposits them gently on the floor tiles. A gentleman to the end. Some coconut ice cream before a quick game of touch rugby in the hallway. Then he settles down for the night .
All in all not a bad day . '' As long as you have courage and a sense of humour it's never too late to start life afresh ".