21st of March is meant to be the first day of Spring – Not so in a high valley in the Lakeland Fells. 6 feet of Snow got dumped in our lane – the only exit to the outside world from our Remote cottage.
Togged up and looking like Nepalese Sherpas and bent against a still angry wind we surveyed the nights damage- struggling waist high it was just white and more white – “wasn’t that a cry of help” said my companion – my ears strained – a wind torn voice came shredded through the soup of snow and wind to us and there looming against a blizzard like horizon the tall figure of our farming neighbour looking like Father Time with a great long pole in his hand.
“I have lost my Range Rover” he yelled above the wind. “It’s got to be here somewhere” he said as he desperately prodding the avalanche filled road.
“Come home and have some warm ginger wine by our fire” I said “I am sure your Range Rover won’t be going anywhere in a hurry,”