Tuesday evening arrived with little flurries of snow as my daughter and I watched out the window with glee. "Like a Winter Wonderland!" I believe were my words.
We then woke up on Wednesday to a sea of snow, and sure everyone's only delighted! Daddy has to stay at home, we had only got a food shop in a couple of days prior so ya know, when your fridge and presses are full of food, everything else falls into place it seems, happy out!
That afternoon was spent bringing the toddler out for her first snow day, which she (eventually) seemed to like, and got so excited about seeing a dog, she tried to sprint her way through snow half the height of her and snotted herself - no tears thank god! When we first brought her out though she had a face on her as if to say "what have you done, where is the GROUND guys? What the hell is this stuff?"
Thursday arrives and sh*t is getting real folks. The country starts to go into meltdown mode as people go out on the hunt, dressed in their best arctic gear with empty starving arms at the ready for all the god damn Brennan's bread and sacred cows milk they can possibly carry.
I sit at home and laugh to myself at all these crazy people with their milk and bread runs, knowing full well-tinned goods are the business in a crisis like this, only to later wander around my kitchen to say, "Ah Jaysus Jeff, need to stock up on the milk and bread again!".
Not that we are fussy about it being Brennans or anything, but then I strut down to the shop to a display of not a single milk carton, or batch left. Not one.
I walk home then only to mutter to myself about all the selfish pigs who I imagine to have piles of Brennan's packed into their American sized freezers and milk stocked to the brim in their fridge while mine feels like a game of Rubiks every bleedin' time I open it!
Friday is better, everyone loves a Friday, right?
Cabin fever is setting in and all the "nice" food is gone. We end up playing Crash Bandicoot where we take turns cursing the arse off Crash himself and in turn some creepy guy called Uka Uka tells us the game is over continuously so the toddler hides every time. (What's Uka got that we haven't for taming a toddler eh?!)
Friday evening comes the end of tethers so Daddy goes to the pub for a pint and I settle down with Piers Morgan for a (very large) glass of Vino. If there's one thing I am glad of, is that the electricity never went.
So now it's Saturday and thankfully, we haven't killed each other, we have successfully stocked up on essentials without having to be in a ferocious queue in a supermarket and the snow seems to be thawing.
And by thawing, I mean making everything slushy, icy and slippy, and everything seems to be falling off the roofs of houses. Welcome to Beauty and the Beast part II - where the b*tch comes back to watch us recover, in pain, slowly, because surely she'd never let the Beast have the last word?!