Its nearly all over now, the Christmas, the New Year the whole holiday shebang. Domesticated involuntarily by the harshness of an Arctic turn to the weather this year the old cliché of Christmas being a family time was more strictly adhered to than usual.
As a result many mums and dads have been seen shrieking wildly at the first onset of opportunity to leave the family hearth (surrounded by screaming kids for whom the novelty of Santa’s trove has already worn thin!) and take tentative steps of freedom on icy pavements or frosty streets as bargains are hunted in the January sales.
To the perennial old question, ‘How did you get over the Christmas?’ the answer this year was always the same, ‘Very quiet, didn’t get out much’. I experienced the hazards of real winter weather on Christmas morning as I drove in from Pallaskenry at snails pace on icy roads, at one point on the brow of the hill near Hegarty's Cross in Ballymartin I almost baulked at he sparkling decline before me.
Before I left Mag’s place a neighbour who drives the biggest tractor I’ve ever seen visited the house and gave the most dire account of the state of the roads, not a man given to exaggeration his report had to be taken seriously. As I sat listening I could feel my resolve to travel weakening and I decided to up and leave before my will to live deserted me and I would be stranded out the country for the duration.
Gingerly, might best describe my driving to my brothers house in Corbally for the festive dinner. And the frost and icy conditions have persisted curtailing travel and other outdoor activities. While we had a spattering of snow, there was not sufficient for the making of snowmen or decent snowball fights so to fill the gap I have trawled the net for examples of the fine art of snow sculpture.
The end comes to us all !