Trudge, trudge, trudge... wait...

England is at her beautiful best this morning. She rose early and washed carefully in some heavy rain; her scent is the sort of cool, clear, fresh, carefree that perfumers would sell their own mothers for glue to bottle; the sun is out, shining around a few wisps of high cloud; the air is cold but still; and the light is a golden wash that you could squeeze out of the air and drink. Or wish that you could. Even the East end of Bristol looks good in it.

It makes walking to work a pure pleasure.

Guess who got textas for Christmas?

Word Games

Here's an easy game to play; here's an easy thing to say:

When is someone English, and when are they British?

I used to think these were pretty well interchangeable terms when talking about people (and things) who are English, but I have discovered this is not so. Have no fear, though: the rules are very simple.

• If someone is from England and they are good at something, they are English.
• If someone is from Scotland, Wales or Ireland and they are good at something, they are British.
• If someone is from England and they are not good at something, they are British.
• If someone is from Scotland, Wales or Ireland and they are not good at something, they are Scots, Welsh or Irish, respectively.

A very admirable scheme, I'm sure. Hence:

• Andy Murray, the British tennis player (actually a Scot), but
• Johnny Wilkinson, the English rugby captain.
  
• Gordon Brown, the Scottish Prime Minister of Britain, and
  
• John Major, the ex-British Prime Minister (actually English).
  
• Cardiff, the Welsh capital, but
• The beautiful mountains of the West of Britain (ie. Wales).

This scheme is particular hard on the Irish, who are not part of Britain at all. The only major difficulty with it is Kevin Peterson...

Snow!

Yes, we have snow. Here is our back yard this morning:

and our street:


and the Met office has added a new term to its vocabulary: "Bitterly cold."